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THE RAPIDS 


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THE RAPIDS 


BY 

ALAN SULLIVAN 

AUTHOR OF "THE INNER DOOR,” ETC. 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK LONDON 

1920 




COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


i 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OT AMERICA 

JUL -3 ; r 2 pO!.A570525 ' 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Clark Discovers Arcadia i 

II. Arcadia Wakes Up 20 

III. Philadelphia Hears about Arcadia 35 

IV. Preliminaries in St. Marys 41 

V. The Beginning of a New Era 55 

VI. Concerning Iron, Wood and a Girl 66 

VII. The Bishop’s Garden Party — and Afterwards . 78 

VIII. Iron 97 

IX. Concerning the Apprehension of Clark’s Direc- 
tors .. . 101 

X. Cupidity vs. Loyalty 112 

XI. Clark Experiences a New Sensation, also His 

Directors 12 1 

XII. Love and Doubt 149 

XIII. The Voice of the Rapids 162 

XIV. An Ancient Aristocrat Visits the Works . .178 

XV. Clark Converts Toronto 183 

/ XVI. Gold, also Concerning a Girl 198 

XVII. The Girl in the Canoe 213 

XVIII. Matters Financial 220 

XIX. The Web of Lachesis 240 

XX. The Car of Progress Halts 251 

XXI. The Crash 268 

XXII. The Master Mind at Work 289 

XXIII. Concerning the Riot 300 

XXIV. Destiny 318 

XXV. The Unconquerable Spirit 33 * 

Epilogue 335 



THE RAPIDS 


I.— CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 

MONGST the few who knew Robert Fisher Clark 



JTjL at all well, for there were not many of them, there 
was no question as to his beliefs. It was too obvious 
that his primary faith was in himself. Nor is it known 
whether, at any time, he gave any thought or study to 
the character of those with whom, in the course of his 
remarkably active life, he came into association. Al- 
ways it appeared that there was laid upon him the re- 
sponsibility of doing things which did not occur to the 
ordinary man, and he went about them with such su- 
preme confidence and unremitting enthusiasm that he 
infused into his followers much of his communicable 
zeal. It appears now that Clark weighed a man by ap- 
praising the degree to which he contributed to the work 
in hand, and automatically set aside those whom he 
considered contributed nothing to his object. He was 
the most unattached personality it is possible to im- 
agine. Whatever passion or reaction he may have ex- 
perienced was always a matter for him alone, and 
something that he underwent in the remoteness of an 
astonishingly exclusive brain. That he experienced 
them is without doubt, but they were revealed in the 
intensity of action and the quick resiliency of renewed 


effort. 


i 


THE RAPIDS 


It was not known, either, whether he believed in 
chance, or in those tiny eventualities which so often im- 
press a definite color on subsequent years. The trend 
of his mind was to move forward rather than back, and 
it is questionable if he gave much thought to second 
causes. The fruit dangled before his eye even as he 
planted the vine, and if this induced in him a certain 
ruthlessness it could only be because those who are 
caught up in high endeavor to reach the mountain tops 
must perforce trample many a lowland flower beneath 
their eager feet. 

And yet it was chance that brought Clark to St. 
Marys, chance that he should be in a certain train at a 
given time, and above all it was chance that he should 
overhear a certain conversation, but it was not by any 
means chance that he should interpret the latter as he 
did. 

The train was lurching over an uneven track that 
wound through the woods of western Ontario when, 
staring thoughtfully out of the window at the tangled 
bush, he caught from across the aisle the drift of talk 
that was going on between two strangers. 

“ And so/’ said one of them, “ the thing went smash 
for lack of just two things.” 

“ And what were they ? ” 

“ Some more money and a good deal more experi- 
ence.” 

Clark raised his head ever so slightly. Money and 
experience — the lack of them had, to his personal 
knowledge, worked disaster in a wider circle than that 
of St. Marys. He had heard of the place before, but 
2 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


that was years ago. Presently one of the strangers 
continued. 

“ It was after the railway came that the people in St. 
Marys seemed to wake up. They got in touch with the 
outside world and began to talk about water power. 
You see, they had been staring at the rapids for years, 
but what was the value of power if there was no use to 
which to put it? Then a contractor dropped in who 
had horses and tools but no job.” 

“ So that’s what started it ? ” 

“ Exactly. The idea was small enough to begin with 
and the town just wanted power for light and water 
works, so they gave the contractor the job, borrowed 
a hundred and thirty thousand dollars, and got the 
necessary land from the Ottawa government. I’ve an 
idea that if those rights ever get into experienced hands 
you’ll hear a good deal more of St. Marys than you 
ever heard before.” 

“ And then?” 

“ The town went broke on the job. Mind you, they 
had a corking agreement with the government and a 
block of land alongside the rapids big enough for a 
young city. The mistake was they hadn’t secured any 
factory. Also they needed about five times as much 
money.” 

The other man smiled reflectively. “ The old story 
over again.” 

“ That’s about it. Credit ran out and the work 
stopped and things began to rust, and now St. Marys 
has gone to sleep again and does a little farming and 
trade with the Indians.” 


3 


THE RAPIDS 


“ In fact, it’s a sort of rural tragedy? ” 

“ Yes. You’ll see the half-finished ditch just before 
we cross the bridge. I’m afraid St. Marys has that 
kind of a sick feeling that generally knocks the stuffing 
out of a municipality. Come on, let’s have some 
lunch.” 

The two disappeared toward the dining car, but 
Clark did not stir. His eyes, which were gray and 
keen, still fixed themselves contemplatively on the 
ragged wilderness. His lips were pressed tight, his 
jaw slightly thrust out. Water rights — industries 
— unlimited power — land for an industrial city; all 
this and much more seemed to hurl itself through his 
brain. Presently he took a railway folder out of his 
bag and examined one of those maps which invariably 
indicate that the railway which has published the folder 
owns the only direct route between important points 
and that all other lines meander aimlessly in compari- 
son. He noted, although he already knew it, that St. 
Marys, Ontario, was just across the river from St. 
Marys, Michigan; that Lake Superior flung itself down 
the rapids that roared between, and that to the south the 
country was fairly well settled — but to the north the 
wilderness stretched almost unbroken to the sub- 
arctics. 

A quarter of an hour passed when a long whistle an- 
nounced the approach to the town. At the sound a 
new light came into the gray eyes, the traveler closed 
his bag with a snap and began to put on his coat. Just 
at that moment the porter hurried up. 

“ This isn’t Minneapolis, sir.” 

4 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


Clark drew a long breath. “I know it — have 
changed my mind. I’m for St. Mary’s now.” 

He stepped off almost before the train came to a 
halt and looked curiously about. 

“ Good day,” he said to the nearest man. “ Will 
you please tell me who is mayor and where I will 
find him?” 

Now it happened that the individual to whom this 
query was addressed was none other than Bowers, the 
town solicitor, for Bowers had a habit of deserting his 
office about train time and surveying new arrivals from 
a comer of the platform with the lurking hope of un- 
earthing something which might relieve the monotony 
of days which were not only wearisome but unprofit- 
able. When the stranger spoke to him, the lawyer no- 
ticed that he was of medium height with a strong 
barrel-like body and rather sloping shoulders. His 
face was smooth, his jaw somewhat heavy, his eyes 
exceedingly keen, and he carried with him an indefin- 
able air of authority. He observed, also, that the voice 
had in it something peculiarly clear and incisive. With 
a little thrill and a sudden flicker of the flame of hope, 
he pointed down the street that led to the river. 

“ Filmer is the mayor and his store is at the second 
corner down. His office is just behind.” 

The stranger nodded and strode briskly off. Pres- 
ently Bowers heard another voice. 

“ Who’s that, do you suppose, commercial ? ” 

The lawyer wrinkled his brows. “In a way, yes, 
but in another way, no. That fellow isn’t selling any- 
thing, he’s a buyer.” 


5 


THE RAPIDS 


As the stranger approached Filmer’s store, he noted 
that it was the largest building in sight, as well it might 
be. It was the local emporium, and so successfully 
had Filmer managed his business that the Hudson 
Bay Company saw nothing inviting in competition. 
From a plow to a needle, from an ax to a kettle, from 
ammunition to sugar, Filmer had all things, and what 
he had not he secured with surprising promptness. He 
had been mayor so long that his first term was now 
almost forgotten. By ability, courage, and fairness 
he was easily the leader in the community. Broad and 
strong, with a ruddy, good natured face, a fine tenor 
voice, a keen sense of humor and repartee, he was uni- 
versally popular. No one had known Filmer to com- 
plain or repine, though there must have been moments 
when he longed for touch with those of his own caliber. 
His was the case of a big man who though bigger than 
his surroundings accepted them cheerfully. Thus, 
when Filmer looked up and saw the stranger standing 
at his office door he was conscious of a curious feeling 
of anticipation. 

It was noted in the store that when the murmur of 
voices, a mingling of the stranger’s penetrating tones 
and Filmer’s fuller, richer note, had lasted for a mo- 
ment, the mayor got up and banged the door shut, after 
which there drifted out only a suggestion of conversa- 
tion. It was not until an hour later that the door opened 
and the two came slowly out, the stranger as brisk as 
ever. Filmer was pulling thoughtfully at his glossy 
black whiskers. Both paused on the wide front step. 

'Then at eight this evening, Mr. Clark?” said Filmer. 

6 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


“ At eight,” answered the stranger, staring keenly 
at the river. 

“ Won’t you come and stay with me while you are 
here, it’s just as comfortable as the hotel?” Filmer 
laughed softly. 

Clark shook his head. “ Thanks, I’ll have too much 
to do while I am here. I’d better be alone.” And 
with that he set off walking smartly up the long ram- 
bling street that led to the abandoned power canal. 

He progressed steadily with quick energetic steps, 
an alert and suggestive figure amidst a scene of placid- 
ity. Up the uneven plank walk he went, noting with 
a swift, sidelong glance the neat white house of Dib- 
bott, the Indian agent, a house that thrust its snowy, 
wooden walls and luxuriant little garden close up to 
the street. On his left, still further west, was the 
home of Worden, the local magistrate. This was a 
comfortable old place by the river, with a neglected 
field between it and the highway. Scattered here and 
there were stores, small buildings with high, wooden 
fronts, in the upper part of which lived the proprietor 
and his family. On the right, street after street started 
intermittently northward and died, houseless, at the 
railway line, beyond which lay the unbroken bush. 
Still further up was the County jail, set four square in a 
large lot that had been shorn of trees. It was of gray 
stone, massive and forbidding and iron barred. Clark 
stopped here for a moment and looked back at St. 
Marys with its flaming maples and its scattered roofs 
from which rose plumes of light, gray smoke. His 
eyes half closed as though in some sudden introspec- 
7 


THE RAPIDS 


tion, till, turning abruptly, he struck off over a road 
that led across a mile of level land and came presently 
to the grave of the industrial hopes of the town. It 
was an ugly scar in the face of the helpless earth. 

Climbing the half completed embankment, he looked 
west, where through the clearing he could see the wa- 
ters of Superior, then down stream to the tail of the 
rapids that roared half a mile further on. It came to 
him that nothing is so ugly as a well meant effort 
which has been left unfinished. Where he stood there 
had, a year or so before, been little rivulets which, 
escaping from the mighty flood of the rapids, lost 
themselves in thickets of birch, hemlock, and cedar, and 
tinkled and leaped musically to the lower stretches of 
the river, whilst great trout lay winnowing their cur- 
rents of white water. But of this beauty there was 
now but a disordered gash, a hundred feet wide and a 
thousand feet long, where rusting tools were scattered 
amongst mounds of splintered rock that lay in piles 
just as the blast of dynamite had left them. An un- 
tidy ruin, thought Clark, who had his own ideas of how 
things should be put away. 

But he was, nevertheless, intensely interested, scan- 
ning it all shrewdly. He picked up fragments of stone, 
and, breaking them, examined their texture with the 
utmost care. Once or twice he walked along the top 
of the unfinished embankment throughout its entire 
length, running a keen eye over the outlines of the 
excavation. After half an hour which concluded with 
one long concentrated stare, he pushed on deliberately 
through the soaked and tangled undergrowth till he 
8 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


came to the edge of the rapids themselves. Here he 
sat on a rock and looked long and earnestly, and so 
motionless was he that, after a little while, he seemed 
to blend completely with earth, sky, and water. 

Immediately at his feet the rush of the river grasped 
at the rough shore as though to pluck it into the deeps, 
and here were eddies in which he could see the polished 
stones at the bottom. But further out, where the full 
weight of water began to be felt, were the first of the 
great, white horses that stretched to the other shore, a 
tossing, leaping, irresistible herd. Under the great 
bridge at his right, the river took its first dip, a smooth 
and shining slope, streaked with tiny furrows of speed 
that wrinkled like waving metallic lines. Below that 
came the rapids in their first fury, with scattered cel- 
lars into which the flood swept to up rear itself in a sec- 
ond into pyramids of force and foam. This seemed 
to fascinate Clark, and he peered with unwinking eyes 
till a sharp clatter just over his head caused him to 
look up. Still he did not move his body, and a king- 
fisher on a branch, after regarding him for an instant 
with bright suspicious eyes, flung himself into the air 
and hovered over a nearby eddy with an irregular flap- 
ping of quick, blue wings. Then, like a bullet, he 
dived into the flashing stream immediately at Clark’s 
feet, and emerged with diamond drops flying from his 
brilliant plumage and a small, silver fish curving in his 
sharp, serrated beak, till, a second later, he darted into 
the covert with his prey. The bird had dared the 
rapids and found that which he sought. Clark’s gray 
eyes had seen it all, and he smiled understanding^. 

9 


THE RAPIDS 


The mayor, after the departure of his visitor, stood 
thoughtfully in front of the store, while his eye fol- 
lowed the stranger’s figure dreamily up the street, and 
stood like one who has that whereof to ponder. It is 
true that he had offered to accompany the new comer 
on his pilgrimage, but equally true that Clark had po- 
litely but definitely declined, and it was something new 
for the mayor to have his suggestion thus put aside. 
In this case, however, he felt no resentment, and pres- 
ently strolled to the house of Worden, the magistrate, 
where he found Worden, a large man with a small, 
kindly face, sitting in his study which immediately 
faced the lawn. On the other side was the river. 
Worden was apparently dividing his time between an 
unfinished judgment, for which there seemed no press- 
ing demand, and a satisfying contemplation of the 
great stream which here was flecked with foam from 
the tumult above. 

The mayor sat for some time talking to him, 
surrounded by tiers of homemade shelves packed with 
law books, along whose tattered, leather backs Worden 
had a habit of running a tobacco-stained forefinger 
while he relighted a pipe which seemed in continual 
need of attention. The talk was long and earnest. 
The mayor’s cigar went out with a smell of varnish 
where it lay on the edge of the judge’s desk, but 
the two were so interested that they did not no- 
tice it. 

Presently Filmer got up and Worden followed him 
to the porch expressing entire approval of all that had 
been discussed, and, as Filmer struck across to the 


io 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


street, he returned to his study and gazed at the judg- 
ment with apparent contempt. 

From Worden’s, the mayor walked across to the jail 
and sought out Manson. The latter was in his small 
office which seemed crowded with its single occupant’s 
bulk, and adjoined the high forbidding walls of the 
jail itself. In St. Marys the chief constable was a 
man of place, and the jail an edifice that at times took 
on a singular interest, and if such a capacious estab- 
lishment as it actually was might seem superfluous in 
Arcadia it must be remembered that in seasons of the 
year the lumberjacks rolled in from the northern parts 
with six months’ wages and a great thirst that de- 
manded to be quenched, and a perfectly natural and 
well meaning desire to offer combat at sight, which they 
generally did. Then, too, there were fugitives from 
justice who slipped across the river by night in canoes, 
and miners from the silver country far to the west, 
and sometimes crime was also the product of isola- 
tion. 

Manson, a tall man, broad, dark, and heavy voiced, 
seemed by nature designed to meet just such con- 
tingencies. Outwardly he was the epitome of author- 
ity and inwardly he had a mind as stiff as his back. 
In his own domain he was as Jove on Olympus, and 
when he moved abroad he was a perambulating re- 
minder of the strong arm of the law. The jail was 
conveniently arranged to hold the court room on an 
upper story, so that Manson could pop a prisoner up 
out of his cell to be tried and sentenced, and pop him 
back forthwith, and all the time the unfortunate was, 


ii 


THE RAPIDS 


so to speak, one of the family and continually under 
the paternal eye. 

Had a listener been outside the door, he would have 
gleaned that the mayor’s visit was, in this case, not as 
amicable as that just made to Worden. He talked 
long and arduously, but every now and then Manson’s 
deep bass boomed out heavy with argument, and his 
massive fist crashed ponderously on the table. Pres- 
ently Filmer drew a long breath and, stepping out 
on the trim gravel path, glanced up quizzically at the 
chief constable who looked as though enthroned on 
his own doorstep. 

“ Mr. Mayor,” came the deep voice, “ I don’t take 
any stock in your scheme. It’s no good and there’s 
a nigger in the fence somewhere. I was right before, 
and I am right this time.” 

Filmer laughed softly. “ Well, John, you’re a hell 
of a good jailer, we all admit that, but I don’t put 
you down as any permanent prophet. However, you 
will come, won’t you ? ” 

Manson nodded, a nod which said that though he 
would come it could not affect his fixed opinion, where- 
upon the mayor laughed again, and set off to finish his 
afternoon pilgrimage, and it is but fair to follow him 
a little further since he was a shrewd man, active and 
courageous, and though he did not know it, the re- 
sult of the various visits he made that day was to be 
imprinted indelibly on the history of St. Marys. 

Banishing Manson from a mind which was already 
busy with his next move, he retraced his steps as 
far as the cottage of Dibbott, the Indian agent, who 
12 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


at this hour of the day, might have been found moving 
mountainously in his long garden and pottering amongst 
his perennials, smoking an enormous pipe which he re- 
gretfully laid aside only in order that he might eat. 

Now, since the citizens of St. Marys were, without 
their knowledge, about to enter upon a period of great 
importance, glance at Dibbott, not the least of them, 
as his small, blue eyes caught the approaching figure 
of the mayor. Six feet when he straightened, his 
shoulders were bent, but still broad and strong. His 
face was fiery, not only from his full blooded habit 
but also from long canoe voyages. He was a placid 
man — placid yet at times suddenly choleric, and he 
regarded St. Marys and his own particular plot of land 
with an undying and tranquil affection. Dibbott’s po- 
sition was, in a sense, enviable, for he stood as admin- 
istrator between the government and the local Indian 
tribes, in whose eyes he was the representative of au- 
thority. 

Year after year he made official visits of visible 
grandeur to the settlements of his wards, journeying 
in a great canoe in the middle of which he rested en- 
throned, the brim of his hat pulled far down over a 
scarlet, sunburnt nose, a steady wisp of smoke from 
his big pipe floating back into the face of the laboring 
Indian behind him. It may be that it was in the silence 
and mysterious appeal of these journeys that Dibbott 
got the dignity which sat so naturally on his great, 
gray head. 

The mayor liked the old man, and Dibbott knew it, 
so they talked amicably while Dibbott, turning every 
13 


THE RAPIDS 


now and then in surprise, pushed out his full red lips 
as though rising to a fly, and darted quick, little glances 
as Filmer unfolded his story beside a late phlox. And 
when the mayor concluded, Dibbott did not move but 
began to rumble in a deep, throaty, ruminative voice 
something that sounded like one hundred and thirty 
thousand dollars at six per cent. 

On his way back to the office, Filmer saw Bowers' 
lean figure across the street. He crooked a masterful 
finger. “ Come here ! ” 

The lawyer came over very deliberately and the two 
went on together. 

“ There is a man up at the rapids who says he's 
ready at any time to take over the town canal de- 
bentures." 

Bowers looked up startled. “ Will you please re- 
peat that very slowly." 

“ It’s true," chuckled Filmer, “ and I am calling a 
town meeting for to-night. I haven’t time to give 
you the details now, but be on hand at eight o’clock. 
He’s made a perfectly straight proposal and I don’t 
see how we can lose on it. I never met a man just 
like him." 

“ Did he come in on the train this afternoon? " 

The mayor nodded. “ Yes — said he was going on 
to Minneapolis, but decided to stop over and make this 
offer." 

“ Then I saw him at the station," answered Bowers 
thoughtfully. “ I thought he was a buyer. Do you 
reckon we can rope him in? " 

Filmer drew a long breath. “ Looks to me as if he 
14 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


would rope himself in the way he is going. He won’t 
need any help from us.” 

“ What did you make of him personally? ” 

“ I didn’t get very far,” said Filmer deliberately, 
“ except that he struck me as the sort of man who 
gets things done. Look here, I’ve seen Dibbott and 
Worden and Manson. Will you go and see the Bishop 
and ask him to come to-night? ” 

“ The Bishop went away this morning.” 

“ Damn ! ” said the mayor explosively. “ I wanted 
to get his opinion about Clark, that’s his name, Rob- 
ert Fisher Clark. Well, so long.” 

He went on to his store where he was overtaken by 
Clark who had tramped back from the rapids. The 
visitor was muddy and no longer immaculate and there 
was a trace of fatigue on his face, but he looked as 
cheerful and determined as ever. At that moment the 
village crier passed up the street swinging a raucous 
bell and announcing in stentorian tones that a meeting 
would be held in the town hall that night at eight 
o’clock to consider matters of prime importance to the 
citizens at large. The crier tramped on, and Filmer 
glanced up inquiringly. 

“ Won’t you change your mind and come to the 
house with me? It is a safe bet you’ll be more com- 
fortable.” 

Clark shook his head. “ Thanks, but I’ve got to 
speak in two hours and there’s a good deal to think of.” 

Meantime rumors of many things had begun to 
spread through St. Marys. The magistrate, as soon 
as the mayor left him, naturally told Mrs. Worden 
15 


THE RAPIDS 


all about it and Bowers would not have dreamt of 
keeping such a thing from his wife, so had stuck a card 
on his office door saying he would be back in ten min- 
utes and went home for the afternoon, after which 
Mrs. Worden and Mrs. Bowers strolled over to see 
Mrs. Dibbott and were in close conversation amongst 
the perennials, appealing now and then to Dibbott in 
order that there might be no mistake about it. Down 
in Blood’s barber shop, Jim Blood had, as might be ex- 
pected, the most detailed information, for Clark had 
gone in there on his way to the hotel and, sitting down, 
remarked “ shave please ” and at the end, without 
another word, gave Jim fifty cents and walked out. 
And if you add to all this the sound of the crier’s bell 
mellowing softly up the long street, it will be under- 
stood that the excitement was considerably intensified. 
Even Filmer, as he ate supper, did not say much, but 
kept his gaze on the lid of the teapot as though it were 
a Pandora’s box in which bubbled marvelous things 
that might be vomited any moment. But at heart 
Filmer was not anxious. It was not his habit. Of all 
men he knew best the folk of St. Marys, so he doubted 
not at all, and as a matter of fact St. Marys had for 
mayor a much bigger and wiser man than it ever sus- 
pected. 

There may be communities now such as St. Marys 
was twenty-five years ago, but one goes far to find 
them. Electricity has altered their distinctive charac- 
ter. The traffic of half a continent glided majestically 
past these wooded shores, with the deep blast of 
whistles as the great vessels edged gingerly into the 
16 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


Government lock across the river to be lifted to Su- 
perior, and another farewell blast as they pushed slowly 
out, and lastly a trail of vanishing black smoke as they 
dwindled westward to the inland sea. For seven 
months this procession passed the town but never 
halted, till the people of St. Marys felt like the farmer 
who, in mid field, waves a friendly hand to a speeding 
train. 

As a result folk knew each other to a degree which 
some would call insufferably well, and yet they did not 
weary. It was a curious condition in which life had 
few secrets and yet an ample privacy. There was, 
as it happened, little to secrete, and simultaneously 
there was no straining of hospitality. In these close 
quarters each was aware that the others knew what he 
or she could reasonably do, and, in natural conse- 
quence, did it with grace and simple ease. For years 
before the railway pushed up from Sudbury, the outer 
world was brought into touch when the bows of the 
bi-weekly steamer bumped softly against the big 
stringers of Filmer’s dock, and papers and letters were 
thrown on a buckboard and galloped to the post office 
where presently the community gathered and talked. 

There was no telephone to jangle, no electric light 
and no waterworks, but in the soil of St. Marys were 
springs of sweet water, and through the windows came 
the soft glow of lamplight as evening closed in, and the 
shuffle of feet on the porch announced the visitor. It 
was from the river and the close encircling forest that 
St. Marys took on its atmosphere. The maple bush 
was full of game, and the beaver built their curving 
17 


THE RAPIDS 


dams in tamarac thickets within three miles of the 
village. It was a common thing to kill Sunday’s din- 
ner in a two hours stroll from Filmer’s store, and, 
at the foot of the rapids where the Indians pushed 
their long canoes up to the edge of the white water, 
there were great, silver fish for the taking. The ducks 
halted for a rest on their way north and within a 
stone’s throw of the Bishop’s big, square house, the geese 
used to alight in a cornfield, sometimes on a Sunday 
morning. On such occasions the Bishop experienced 
keen embarrassment, for he was a good shot and a good 
sportsman. In springtime the Indians would come up 
from the settlement with mink and otter which they 
traded at Filmer’s store for bags of brown sugar, and, 
these, being silently transported to the bush, would 
shortly reappear as quantities of genuine Indian maple 
sugar, which Filmer’s clerks sold to Filmer’s friends 
with absolute gravity, the nature of the thing being per- 
fectly understood on both sides of the counter. As 
to local excitement, there was twice a year the County 
Court and, while it might be said that there was not 
in all this much for young people to do, they had, 
nevertheless, camping trips and cruises in big Mack- 
inaw boats along the shores of Lake Huron, and snow 
shoeing expeditions in winter that took them straight 
into a fairyland where they built roaring fires of six 
foot logs and feasted royally in the ghostly recesses 
of the snow burdened woods. All this and much more 
had the folk of the village, and everything that went 
to make up a sweet, clean, uneventful life. And then 
into this Arcadia dropped one day a stranger, with an 
1 8 


CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA 


amazing experience of the outer world, a kaleidoscopic 
brain, an extraordinary personal magnetism and a 
unique combination of driving force and superlative 
ambition. 

Is it surprising that even though ignorant of Clark’s 
characteristics the people of St. Marys filled the town 
hall that night ? 


II.— ARCADIA WAKES UP 


I T was a large room with bare floor, painted walls 
and a flat sounding-board of a ceiling. Across the 
end was the platform, and immediately above the plat- 
form table hung a large brass lamp which could be 
lowered by a chain that ran along the ceiling and down 
the adjoining wall. Around the main walls and be- 
tween the windows were smaller lamps in wire brackets, 
which burned with a steady, yellow light, and occa- 
sionally gave off a thin trickle of smoke that filled the 
room with the sharp odor of soot. On the platform 
sat Clark and Filmer on either side of the table, and 
on the table stood an enormous jug of water and one 
glass. 

At five minutes past eight the hall was crowded. 
Manson was there, sitting in the front row, and lean- 
ing forward on his heavy oak stick which seemed a 
very bludgeon of authority. Beside him sat his wife, 
small, slight and gentle, the very antithesis of her dark 
and formidable husband. Manson’s eyes roved from 
Filmer to Clark and back again to Filmer, but the two 
looked over his head and seemed no whit disconcerted. 
A little further back were the Dibbotts, the former 
turning his big gray-coated body, and every now and 
then surveying the growing audience with his small 
blue eyes, while his lips pushed in and out, which was 
in Dibbott a certain sign that he was thinking hard. 
20 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


Mrs. Dibbott, tall, slim, and square shouldered, turned 
her kindly capable face toward Clark, and felt the 
first intimation of that keen interest he always roused, 
especially in the women who met him. He seemed so 
alert, such a free agent and, it must be confessed, so 
disgracefully independent of the gentler sex. Then 
there was Belding, the young engineer who had had 
charge of the town’s work at the canal. It was not 
Belding’s fault that the money ran out, but he had 
cea$ed operations with an unshakable sense of per- 
sonal blame that, of late, worked poisonously in his 
brain. There were also the Bowers, and Mrs. Bowers’ 
ample and genial person was full of a pleasurable glow, 
for if the mayor’s plan went through they would have 
at last a roof over the front porch on which she spent 
so many hospitable summer evenings. Bowers him- 
self already saw in Clark a possible and important 
client, and his brain was full of half formulated propo- 
sitions. 

At seven minutes past eight the mayor began to 
speak. He had been somewhat at a loss just how he 
might introduce Clark, for, as a matter of fact, the 
only information he had about the visitor was what 
the visitor himself had volunteered. But here, as al- 
ways, Clark’s tremendous personality had expressed it- 
self. Filmer glanced at his alert but motionless figure, 
and perceived that the other was a man of much greater 
experience and power than himself, and in this the 
mayor was subject to exactly that influence which 
Clark was in the habit of exerting without any ef- 
fort whatever. So thus reinforced, and mindful as 


21 


THE RAPIDS 


well that the half yearly interest and sinking fund pay- 
ments would be due on the town debt in three months, 
he fastened an authoritative eye on Manson, the town 
pessimist, and commenced. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen, I have asked you to come 
here to-night because it seems that there is now an 
unexpected opportunity to secure great benefit for the 
town. You are all aware that we tried to do some- 
thing and failed, and that the result was an increase 
of one hundred and thirty thousand dollars in the debt 
of St. Marys.” At this point Manson rammed his oak 
stick against the floor with disturbing effect. The 
mayor glanced at him with a smile and went on. i( I 
do not wish to put before you the proposal Mr. Clark 
makes to the town, he will do that himself. I can 
only say that I have gone into it very carefully with 
him, and that I am satisfied that it is more than fair to 
us, and that I believe he is in control of the necessary 
money to carry out his plans. If he does not carry 
them out we are no worse off, and if he does it will 
put St. Marys definitely on the map. He will speak 
for himself and I hope you will give a careful hearing, 
for I don’t believe such men get off the train every 
day.” 

Clark was on his feet at once and began to talk in 
a curt, incisive tone of great penetration. Behind it 
there moved a suggestion of something quite new to 
the folk of St. Marys. The moment offered no op- 
portunity to analyze this, but it held them motionless 
with attention. 

“ I have come,” he said, “ to make you a proposal 
22 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


which has already been put before Mayor Filmer, and 
which I am glad to tell you meets with his approval. 
I appreciate the opportunity, and with your cooperation 
great things will yet be done in St. Marys. Now I 
am going to ask that two windows be opened and that 
you listen with me for a moment.” 

There followed an instant of universal surprise 
shared by the mayor, after which Clark gathered 
Dawson and Belding with his magnetic eye, and the 
two pushed up the windows nearest them. The cool 
night air breathed in and set the big oil lamps flickering, 
but with it there came the dull monotone of the rapids. 
Clark leaned slightly forward, and, smiling, began to 
speak again. 

“ What you hear is a voice in the wilderness, and, 
ladies and gentlemen, you have heard it for years. I, 
too, have heard it, but for something less than eight 
hours, and there is a difference in our hearing and I 
want to make that difference clear to you. I listen 
with a stranger’s ears, being a stranger, and there- 
fore not accustomed to that voice, I detect in it some- 
thing which possibly some of you may have recognized, 
but certainly none of you have fully appreciated.” 

There followed a little silence during which Mrs. 
Dibbott, her eyes twinkling with intense pleasure, 
nodded to Mrs. Worden. Her imagination was al- 
ready at work, and, of them all, she first caught the 
subtle trend of Clark’s address. 

“ It is hardly necessary for me to remind you that 
your town has made a certain brave attempt and failed 
completely in its venture.” (“Hear! Hear!” from 

23 


THE RAPIDS 


Manson.) “ This attempt was from the outset bound 
to fail/' At this point Manson stamped approvingly, 
and Clark’s gray eyes rested on his big frame for a mo- 
ment while the least suggestion of a smile traversed 
his lips. “ The reason is very simple. You lacked 
experience in such undertakings. You partly heard 
the voice but only partly, for to answer it fully and 
successfully you must answer it in millions and not in 
thousands of dollars.” 

At this point he paused impressively, while there 
spread through the audience the dun colored reflection 
that the entire town, if obliterated, could be rebuilt 
for much less than a million, and so definite was the 
reaction that the speaker proceeded to intensify it in 
his next remarks. 

“ You have at present, as the result of this ill-fated 
enterprise, a liability of one hundred and thirty thou- 
sand dollars — I think it is.” He turned inquiringly 
to Filmer who nodded, and with him the entire male 
section of the audience. There was no question about 
those figures. 

“ This liability imposes a heavy tax upon an unpro- 
ductive community, although if you were producers it 
would be a bagatelle. As against this liability you 
have, as assets, a certain piece of property and certain 
water rights secured from the Dominion government, 
rights which though at present very limited, might be 
made the basis of further expansion. And that is all 
you have — a debt, and against it something that is of 
no use to you.” 

A chilled surprise trickled through the town hall and 

24 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


Filmer himself, who had been quite unaware how Clark 
would state his case, began to think that the thing had 
gone far enough, when the penetrating voice went on. 

“ Now as to the town itself. I have failed, after a 
careful survey, to find any evidence of growth. I 
have seen no new buildings, nor, under the condi- 
tions which at present exist and which there is noth- 
ing you can do to change, do I see any reason for 
growth. You do not manufacture or import anything. 
You have, so to speak, to live on each other, so why 
should any one come here to settle down ? ” 

Although Clark had said several striking things, 
there had not been anything which went as straight 
home as this. All had watched the great procession 
which passed up and down the river, and wondered 
why the population of St. Marys remained so sta- 
tionary, but never had the inescapable truth been 
thrown so blatantly in their faces as by this magnetic 
stranger whose clear voice announced those truths 
which each had been secreting in his heart year after 
year. They began to wonder why a man of his type 
should be interested in the town. But the fact that he 
was interested clothed him with a still more compelling 
attraction. Visions of a decaying and moss covered 
settlement were floating through their minds when the 
voice took on a new note. 

“ The condition I have touched on is due to lack of 
three things, — experience, money and imagination, and 
in such isolated points as this there is little opportunity 
to acquire any of the three. There is in the rapids un- 
limited power. It must be developed, and developed 
25 


THE RAPIDS 


on this side of the river. The age of electricity has 
come. But let us ask ourselves what is the use of 
power unless there is some practical purpose to which 
to put it. There is but one answer. Large works — 
enormous works must be established at the rapids; 
works that will utilize all the power that is developed, 
and draw their raw material from the surrounding 
country. I have an idea that you may consider the dis- 
trict to the north and west a wilderness, but, gentle- 
men, you are mistaken. I firmly believe it to be a ver- 
itable reservoir of wealth. ,, 

Here Clark stopped, glanced thoughtfully at Filmer, 
and poured out a glass of water, while the entire audi- 
ence took an imaginary journey into the bush to the 
north in an attempt to discover the reservoir of wealth. 
This resulted in numerous quiet smiles, each of which 
died out with a look at the intense earnestness on the 
speaker’s face. There was a certain amount of fur, 
it was admitted, but the trapping was falling off. 
There were scattered patches of spruce for pulp wood, 
but so far as most of them knew the land was poor 
and rocky and there had been no discovery of valuable 
mineral. However, silently concluded Clark’s hearers, 
the man might know, and probably did know a good 
deal more than he said, and just as this opinion was 
gaining ground, the speaker struck an inspiring note 
and came to his point. 

“ Now for my proposal. I believe in the future of 
this country, in its latent wealth and its possibilities, 
and I am prepared to take on the town’s uncompleted 
enterprise and assume its one hundred and thirty thou- 
26 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


sand dollars of liability. Gentlemen, what I have in 
mind goes further than any of you have ever imagined, 
and it needs more millions than you have conceived. 
Millions will be forthcoming. In the financial markets 
of the world, capital must be assured of certain funda- 
mentals. These fundamentals established, there is no 
difficulty whatever in securing as much money as may 
be required. That is my experience, and if you ac- 
cept my proposition St. Marys will, within a year, be- 
gin to feel the influx of money which is seeking in- 
vestment. Within that year you will hardly be able to 
recognize your town. Your property, your houses, 
your farm products will greatly increase in value, and 
local trade will experience a remarkable impetus. If 
you ask what are these basic industries which will mean 
so much, I need only point out that I am assured of 
an ample supply of pulp wood for very large mills 
which I propose to erect, and there is, without doubt, 
iron ore in these hills of yours. This is only a part 
of my plan.” 

Again Clark paused, playing with all his power on 
those who had already grasped something of his vision. 
Ore had never been found in that part of the country, 
though innumerable prospectors had toiled through the 
hills in search of it, but now it seemed that the folk of 
St. Marys had cast aside their difference and unbelief, 
and were becoming incorporated in the speaker’s high 
assurance. A little murmur of enthusiasm arose, to 
be hushed instantly. 

“ I only want your cooperation. I do not ask that 
you put in one dollar. There is ample money for the 
27 


THE RAPIDS 


purpose, and I tell you frankly there is no room for 
yours. It is not my intention to bring in for the pur- 
poses of the work anything the town itself can supply, 
and the more you can organize to supply amongst 
yourselves, the better pleased I and my associates will 
be. All I hope is that you participate intelligently and 
profitably in that which will shortly take place. And 
first of all it will be my duty and pleasure to supply 
the town with water and light on terms to be arranged 
with your council. This will be the smallest and to me 
the least profitable of our undertakings, but I regard it 
as an obligation to the town. Ladies and gentlemen, a 
new era is dawning for St. Marys. Have I your sup- 
port ?” 

Had he their support? There followed a moment 
of half dazed silence during which Filmer’s blood 
flushed up to his temples, and Clark finished his glass 
of water and sat down with a swift glance of his 
gray eyes that seemed to take in the entire assembly. 
As though galvanized by an electric shock, the folk 
of St. Marys rose to their feet and began to cheer. 
The ladies’ handkerchiefs were in the air, with a babel 
of voices both small and deep. Mrs. Dibbott, her eyes 
dancing, caught those of Mrs. Worden and nodded 
vigorously, her cheeks flushed, for to men and women 
alike the invigorating, magnetic appeal had gone home. 
Then above the clamor Manson’s deep bass became 
gradually audible. 

He was leaning forward, gazing straight out at the 
two on the platform and booming his utter unbelief in 
all he had heard. Clark, it struck him, did not know 
28 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


what he was talking about, and who was Clark any- 
way? Had a single man in the room ever heard of 
Clark before that afternoon? The town had made one 
blunder, and it would be wise to keep out of an- 
other. 

Thus far he got when the astonishment of the audi- 
ence became transformed into indignation and boiled 
over. Clark had not moved and indeed only smiled 
in an absolutely friendly way, but now there were 
shouts that Manson sit down. He was putting the 
town in an unfortunate and undesirable position. 
Finally, Belding and Worden dragged him expostulat- 
ing into his chair, whereupon Dibbott and Bowers 
very earnestly, and with much applause, expressed 
what the meeting really felt. After which the reso- 
lution was put calling upon the town council to con- 
firm the agreement, and without any delay whatever. 
And this being carried unanimously with cheering, the 
meeting broke up and streamed down the wooden 
stairs with much trampling of feet, while Mrs. Dib- 
bott asked Mrs. Bowers if she had noticed that every 
one was so interested that the two windows which were 
opened had not been closed again in spite of the fact 
that three lamps had been blown out. All this time 
the visitor sat still, a satisfied light in his eyes, and when 
Dibbott and the rest asked to be introduced, the mayor 
exclaimed that the speaker of the evening was so occu- 
pied with momentous matters that he was obliged to 
postpone the pleasure of meeting them for a day or 
two. This, of course, added to the spell of fascination 
cast by the remarkable stranger. 

29 


THE RAPIDS 


A day or two later, he was to disappear as suddenly 
as he came, but in the meantime he avoided the people 
of St. Marys and was extremely busy. To his room 
at the hotel there had mounted a small procession of 
visitors, mostly lumbermen, who, being for a few mo- 
ments admitted to the shrine of mystery, reappeared 
with their eyes more bright and their lips pressed tight. 
They had been discussing business matters, and this 
was for the present about all they would say. The 
town council, without a dissenting note, accepted 
Clark’s proposal, and the latter became a legal debtor 
for one hundred and thirty thousand dollars and the 
owner of the abandoned works, and so simply and 
smoothly was the business carried out that to the coun- 
cil there seemed something magical and portentous in 
the transaction. 

That afternoon Clark sent for Belding, and the 
young engineer came with an expectant thrill. By this 
time St. Marys was aware that the visitor went to no 
one, but every one came to him. It was typical of 
methods which he adopted from the very first, so that 
almost immediately his personality, which was entirely 
new to this remote community, began to suggest every 
phase of power and authority. 

Belding had brought his plans and blue prints with 
him, and spread them on the small bedroom table. 
Followed a little silence, broken by a crisp interroga- 
tion. 

“ How much power have you figured on develop- 
ing?” 

“ Five hundred horse power.” 

30 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


“ Capable of any expansion? ” Clark’s lips took on 
a quizzical curve. 

“ Yes, to one thousand.” 

To this there was no comment. Belding himself 
rather liked the sound of a thousand horsepower. It 
seemed well rounded. 

“ Your water rights, I mean my water rights,” went 
on Clark thoughtfully, “ permit the use of water for 
such works as I may erect.” 

“ Yes,” the engineer hesitated a moment and added, 
“ sir.” 

Clark smiled almost imperceptibly, that is his face ex- 
pressed an inward amusement because a number of tiny 
lines wrinkled into being at the corners of his gray 
eyes, and his lips pushed out ever so slightly. Pres- 
ently he forgot all about the plans, and stared out of 
the window where the first leap of the rapids was just 
visible. 

“ And your technical experience, Mr. Belding, tell 
me about that.” 

Belding told him, and did his best to dilate on work 
that now seemed of a minor character. There was 
that about Clark which curiously minimized the 
young man’s accomplishments. 

Clark nodded once or twice. “ Do you owe any 
money ? ” 

“ No, sir.” Belding’s voice roughened a shade. 

Came one of the stranger’s rare and unmistakable 
smiles. “ Forget all about these plans and start new 
ones. I have no use for a thousand horsepower, or five 
thousand, or ten. We will begin with twenty thou- 
3i 


THE RAPIDS 


sand. I say begin with that. Now listen. You are 
appointed my chief engineer. I said last night I did 
not wish to import that which the town can furnish, 
and I mean it. But being my engineer you are mine, 
and no one else’s. The plans you will make are for 
me, and me alone, as is all information connected with 
them, and I may tell you that my engineers carry 
out my plans and not theirs. Your position will be 
highly confidential, more important than you can at 
present imagine. You will be the repository of much 
that many people would like to know, but I will do 
whatever talking is necessary.” 

There were a few added instructions after which 
Belding went downstairs in a somewhat dazed condi- 
tion. Then, suddenly, he remembered that no men- 
tion had been made of salary. Turning back he 
rapped at Clark’s door. 

“ There is one thing we did not discuss,” he said 
a little awkwardly. 

“ What’s that?” 

“ What are you willing to give me a month. I’m 
apparently engaged and I’d like to know where I 
stand.” 

Clark laughed shortly. “ My invariable practice is 
to pay every cent my employees can earn; the more I 
pay the better I like it. Good evening.” 

Later that afternoon the engineer walked thought- 
fully up to the power canal. It seemed incredible that 
it should no longer be abandoned. Staring at this un- 
completed effort, he felt infused with a hot and over- 
whelming loyalty. Whatever was good in him he 
3 ^ 


ARCADIA WAKES UP 


would put into the work. He did not dream of the 
magnitude of his coming trust, but had a sensation that 
the curtain was about to rise on a new scene. He was, 
perhaps, more than the rest impressed with the visi- 
tor’s force and hypnotic power which seemed prophetic 
and almost mystical. Then his glance, wandering 
down stream, caught a trace of smoke where the after- 
noon steamer was disappearing round a bend. 

Clark had gone off by the afternoon boat, explaining 
to Filmer that he desired to get a glimpse of some other 
parts of the country. Now he sat immovably in a cor- 
ner of the deck, wrapped in a thick overcoat and speak- 
ing to none. In his hand was a copy of the town agree- 
ment. He ran over it musingly till he came to the 
clause which set forth his new obligations, and at this 
point his lips tightened a little. Had he at that mo- 
ment been able to realize every wordly possession he 
had he might have cleared up twenty-five hundred dol- 
lars but certainly not five thousand. A glint came into 
his eyes as he read. The agreement set forth in Bow- 
ers’ best phraseology that Robert Fisher Clark of Phila- 
delphia, financier, — and at the sound of the last word 
Clark smiled a little, — hereby undertook to spend in 
various works not less than three million dollars in the 
next five years, failing which his title to the town’s for- 
mer holdings would automatically lapse. 

The vessel moved smoothly on. Reviewing the 
last few days with perfect placidity, he sent his mind 
back to other notable occasions when success had been 
snatched from him, it seemed, at the very last moment. 
The review did not depress him. He was not of that 
33 


THE RAPIDS 


kind, but was filled rather with a new and inflexible de- 
termination. 

The dream and the vision broadened. As the ves- 
sel swung into the long turn that leads round the first 
big bend, he glanced back and caught the wide white 
line of foam below the spidery bridge. As he gazed 
the wooded ground to the north of the rapids seemed 
to be covered with great stone buildings whose walls 
lifted like mystic battlements in the green wilderness. 
He saw railways plunging into the forest and heard 
the rumble of trains that drew up to his phantom fac- 
tories. He saw the river and the lakes furrowed with 
ships that came to St. Marys with foreign cargoes and, 
charged full with his products, turned their slim bows 
to distant lands. All this and much more passed in 
royal procession before his thoughtful eye. Then 
something seemed to leap through his brain and he 
stood erect, masterful and undaunted. 

“ And now,” he said to himself with a touch of grim 
humor, “ now perhaps I’d better find some money.” 


III.— PHILADELPHIA HEARS ABOUT 
ARCADIA 

F OLLOW Clark a little further, for he was mak- 
ing history. He did not think of this but had 
merely set a determined face toward his guiding star. 
The vision was still clear and sharp when he reached 
Philadelphia, reinspired by a series of swift calcula- 
tions that were as swiftly stowed away for suitable use 
in his retentive brain. There were also three names — 
Wimperley, Riggs, and Stoughton. 

The morning after he arrived he went to see the first 
of his prospects. Wimperley was the auditor of a 
great railway system, and when Clark’s name was 
brought in he looked up from his desk and announced 
shortly : “ Busy, can’t see him,” which was really 

what Clark expected. 

Now the influence by which Clark forced and car- 
ried out this interview with Wimperley need not be 
succinctly described, nor the half amused, half resentful 
surrender with which Wimperley finally said, “ Show 
him in,” but it is indicative of that power of hypnosis 
which Clark could exert at will, and by means of which, 
time and time again, he dissolved antagonism into sup- 
port and the murky solution of criticism into the clean 
precipitate of confident reassurance. Wimperley 
knew perfectly well that, once admitted, Clark would 
convert him to his own present belief, whatever that 
might be, and that under Clark’s magnetic persuasion 
35 


THE RAPIDS 


he would shortly find himself treading a totally unex- 
pected path. 

“ Good morning. I’d like to have fifteen minutes.” 
Clark was inwardly amused, but he spoke with perfect 
gravity. 

Wimperley drew a long breath. He knew what 
could happen in fifteen minutes. “ What's the scheme 
now? ” 

“ Power and pulp,” said Clark briefly, and, turning 
to a large railway map on the wall laid a finger on 
the point where Lake Superior falls into Lake Huron. 

“ Go ahead.” 

“ I have acquired the right to develop any desired 
quantity of energy. This can be done for eighty dol- 
lars a horsepower. The country to the north is full 
of pulp wood, but the people up there don't know it.” 

Wimperley felt a throb of interest. The power 
question in Philadelphia was up at the moment, but 
it was power developed from coal and it came high. 

“ What else?” he said evenly, “and how do you 
know it? ” 

“ Seven different lumbermen have offered to con- 
tract for ten thousand cords a year. That's all I had 
time to talk to. The point is that each has individual 
knowledge of good stands of timber in his own locality 
but the thing has never been collated. Now look 
here,” went on Clark, with a new light in his gray 
eyes — “ there’s power and wood ; excellent transpor- 
tation; iron ore — without question — in the hills; 
limestone at hand; cheap labor; no local competition, 
and — ” 


36 


PHILADELPHIA HEARS ABOUT ARCADIA 


“ Wait a minute,” struck in Wimperley hastily and 
pressed a bell. 

“ Telephone Mr. Riggs and Mr. Stoughton and see 
if they can come over for a moment/’ he said to his 
secretary, then, turning to Clark, “ better wait for 
them.” 

Silence fell in the office. Both men were thinking 
hard. Wimperley, beginning to be resigned, had, in a 
burst of revolt, visualized Riggs and Stoughton as 
those most likely to help with the barricade which 
Clark was already beginning to shatter, and Clark, his 
face as imperturbable as ever, marveled not at all at 
his own influence, but was busy reviewing the strategic 
moves which were to convert the two for whom he 
waited. Presently they entered, shook hands with a 
certain stiffness and sat down. A glance at Clark re- 
vealed the reason for Wimperley’s summons. They, 
too, had in former years come under the spell. 

“ Now,” said Wimperley briefly. 

Clark recapitulated, and the three listened, their 
faces devoid of expression save when their eyes in- 
voluntarily sought each other. 

The voice went on vibrant and compelling. “We 
can turn out seventy-five thousand tons of pulp a year 
at a profit of six dollars a ton. There is an abundance 
of hard wood for veneer mills. I have five hundred 
acres of land adjoining the power canal; it is crossed 
by the Transcontinental Railway; I have been to Ot- 
tawa and am promised a bonus of ten thousand dol- 
lars a mile for such railways as we may build. The 
balance of the cost will be met by the sale of lands 
37 


THE RAPIDS 


thus developed, and thus the railways will not mean any 
permanent investment on our part, but we will, never- 
theless, own them. I am also authorized to divert 
from the rapids any water I may require for power. 
I have been to see the Provincial Government and am 
promised exclusive control of any mineral or lumber 
areas applied for. The market for pulp is very good 
and will shortly be better owing to the exhaustion of 
areas which have been cut over too long. I have vir- 
gin country which is practically inexhaustible. The 
town has transferred to me its entire rights and hold- 
ings. I have all the fundamentals for the making of 
a great industrial center. As to the money — ” 

“ Yes,” put in Riggs with a suggestion of breath- 
lessness in his voice. 

“ Philadelphia has millions waiting for investment 
— you know it, I know it, and this is the opportunity. 
We will be dealing with natural products in a simple 
and natural way. The district supplies the power and 
the raw material ; the outside and neighboring country, 
the market. We supply the brains.” 

“ What does this cost you personally ? ” hazarded 
Stoughton a little uncertainly. 

“ A hundred dollars in traveling expenses, and I 
have assumed a hundred and thirty thousand of town 
debentures at six per cent. If you don’t want it there 
are others who do.” 

Wimperley looked up. His face had taken on a 
new expression. He caught Riggs’ eye and his lips 
formed the word “ cheap.” 

The latter nodded. There was a slight flush in his 

38 


PHILADELPHIA HEARS ABOUT ARCADIA 


otherwise sallow cheeks. Then he put a series of 
searching questions which were answered by Clark with 
a wealth of detailed information which it seemed was 
impossible to have been collected by one man in the 
course of a few days. After which the three went to 
the big map and, turning their backs on Clark, traced 
out railway lines and steamship routes and the general 
transportation situation, and all the while the latter 
sat quite motionless, while his eyes regarded the group 
across the room with a look at once hypnotic and pro- 
found. These were telling moments, during which un- 
seen forces seemed to move and stretch themselves in 
hidden potency. 

Presently came Wimperley’s voice. “ How much 
money would be necessary for the first year’s opera- 
tions ? ” 

“ About a million, possibly more.” 

“ And how,” demanded Stoughton, “ do you propose 
to get it ? ” ' 

“ I am not going to get it,” replied Clark with ex- 
treme placidity ; “ you are.” 

Came a joint laugh from the three at the map, not 
hearty or contagious, but burdened with that negative 
humor with which men sometimes accept a situation 
which holds them helpless and at the same time sum- 
mons all their power to meet it. 

Stoughton drew a long breath. “ Well,” he said 
slowly ; “ I suppose we are.” 

There followed an hour’s conference. Clark did not 
display a trace of triumph but poured out the contents 
of his extraordinary brain. A million to start with and 
39 


THE RAPIDS 


after that more millions as the occasion demanded. 
These were his requirements and the rest could be left 
to him. And it might be noted that the prospect did 
not cause the others much anxiety, for as the under- 
taking unfolded with communicable power, they per- 
ceived more fully than ever that he was in actuality 
dealing with fundamentals, and fundamentals were 
things they were not afraid to commend to financial 
circles. Thus was sown in this Philadelphia office 
the seed which was destined to propagate itself so 
amazingly. 

When it was all over, Clark went back to his hotel, 
and wrote a short letter to a woman saying that he had 
interesting business on hand and hoped to see her soon. 
The letter was to his mother. 


IV.— PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


S NOW was on the ground and the river crisping 
with tinkling sheets of spreading ice when Clark 
again reached St. Marys and with characteristic energy 
laid his first plans. These were to supply the town 
with water and light, and the fact that the well remem- 
bered public promise was thus to be redeemed reas- 
sured the citizens as nothing else could have done. It 
was true that heavy work was impossible before spring, 
but Belding, on instructions, deposited with the town 
council an imposing set of blue prints which showed 
water pipes and electric circuits radiating through every 
part of the town. 

It was a week or so later that one day in the office 
Belding looked up as though he had been called and 
caught his chief’s penetrating gaze. 

“ Are you engaged, Belding ; I mean to be married ? >y 
There was a twinkle in the gray eyes. 

“ No, sir.” 
u Want to be? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Anything to think of except the work? ” 

Belding shook his head. He had already learned 
never to show surprise. 

“ Then suppose I share your quarters for the rest of 
the winter. I can’t stand that hotel any longer.” 

The engineer flushed. Already he had put Clark 
away in the corner of his mind as one not comparable to 

41 


THE RAPIDS 


any man he had ever met. His directness, his versa- 
tility, the suggestion of power that lay behind power, — 
all these Belding had found in him. And this was a 
little like being asked to share quarters with the Pope. 

“ I’m afraid you won’t be very comfortable, sir.” 
Belding had the use of a big house, but it was hard to 
heat. 

“ I’ll be better off than where I am,” said Clark, and 
that settled it. He had apparently conceived for the 
young man as much liking as he cared to show for any 
one. Presently he laughed. 

“You’re wondering why I asked whether you were 
going to be married.” 

“ I am — rather.” 

“ Well, it’s only because I feel a bit superfluous to 
any one in that condition.” 

“Then you’re not married yourself? ” said Belding 
involuntarily. 

Clark’s eyes hardened. “ No,” he answered with 
extreme deliberation, “I am not, I am too busy.” 
Presently his mood changed and he added provoca- 
tively, “ But you’re doomed, I see it in your face.” 

Belding smiled. “ I haven’t met her yet.” 

“ It isn’t a case of your meeting her; it’s the other 
way on. You may never know it, but she will.” 

Belding glanced at him, puzzled. This was not the 
Clark he knew ten minutes ago. And just then the 
other man pulled himself up. 

“ I think I’d move that mill about a hundred feet 
west,” he went on, bending over a drawing. “ It will 
shorten the head race and save money.” 

42 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


The engineer nodded and drew a long breath. He 
had expected to get a glimpse of the inner man, but the 
door was banged in his face. 

That winter was, for him, an adventure in regions 
fascinating and remote. It is probable that at the time 
there was not on the North American continent a man 
more highly endowed than Clark with gifts of sheer 
psychological power. Belding, young in his world, 
could not recognize it as sudi, but he fell the more com- 
pletely under the wizard-like spell of his companion’s 
imagination. The days, shortened by late sun and 
long nights, passed with early journeys to the tem- 
porary office which Clark had built at the canal, where 
they compiled endless surveys and plans in which the 
scope of the future was graphically depicted. On these 
miniature spaces factory shouldered against factory 
and mill against mill. The canal doubled in size, and, 
stupendous as it all seemed, Belding could see no rea- 
son why these things should not shortly exist. It was 
vastly different from former days. 

As the weeks passed, he began to get Clark in clearer 
prospective. It became forced on him that this hyp- 
notic stranger had no desire except that of creation. It 
seemed that his supreme determination was to win from 
the earth that which he believed it offered, and express 
himself in steel and stone and concrete, in the con- 
struction of great buildings and in the impressive rum- 
ble of natural power under human control. There was 
talk of many things, colored by keen, incisive comments 
from this man of many parts, but never once did he 
put forward the subject of wealth or the means of its 
43 


THE RAPIDS 


amassing. The possession, or at least the direction, of 
great sums was imperative to him, but he valued them 
only for what they could achieve, and Belding always 
got the sensation of his new approach to subjects 
hitherto deemed well worn, and that remarkable mix- 
ture of impatience and intuitive power which charac- 
terized his analysis. Again there were evenings when 
Clark did not want to talk, but slipped off to the piano. 
Then the engineer saw another man within the man, 
one who, plunged in profound meditation, sat for 
hours, while his strong yet delicate fingers explored 
the keys, interpreting the color of his mood and draw- 
ing, as it were, from some mystical source that on 
which the subtle brain was nourished. And these were 
periods which the other soon learned were not to be 
interrupted. 

They were constantly asked out and entertained with 
old time hospitality, Clark being the object of supreme 
curiosity in St. Marys, and more often than not he 
slipped away early, leaving Belding on duty. It was 
on these occasions that the contrast between his chief 
and others stood out most prominently, there being 
nothing, it seemed, that any one could do for him. 
His principal desire was to be let alone. 

It was one night at the Wordens’ that Belding caught 
what he took to be evidence of a heart that was fas- 
tidiously concealed. Clark, in front of the fireplace, 
was listening to the judge dilate on the ancient history 
of St. Marys, and that of lost and silent tribes who once 
paddled along the shore and lifted their delicate bark 
canoes around the tumbling rapids. Worden was a 
44 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


wise, old man with a certain gentle dignity, and his wife, 
a dainty, middle-aged lady with slowly graying hair 
and kindly eyes. 

“ There was a good deal of bloodshed about,” rumi- 
nated the judge. “ Of course the Jesuit got here first 
and performed the mysteries of the Host in front of 
the natives. There were Indian wars and a good deal 
of torturing went on up on your property, Mr. Clark. 
Then the French and English traders shot each other 
from behind trees, where I understand you are going 
to build your pulp mill, and the survivors took the furs 
and struck off for Montreal in canoes, a matter of some 
six hundred miles. After that the Red River Com- 
pany and the Hudson Bay got at loggerheads.” 

“ In short,” put in Clark, “ I’ve picked out a ver- 
itable battle ground. By the way, who is this, if 
I may ask?” He lifted a photograph from the 
mantel. 

Mrs. Worden smiled proudly. “ Our laughter, 
Elsie. She’s seventeen now and we won’t see her for 
two years. She’s in the West with her aunt.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Clark. His brows pulled down and he 
scanned the print with close attention. “ She has im- 
agination I take it.” 

“ Too much for her own comfort,” remarked the 
judge. 

Clark did not answer but dropped into one of those 
thoughtful silences which, while they did not seem to 
exclude, made it nevertheless appear presumptuous to 
rouse him. 

“ Too much imagination,” he repeated presently. 

45 


THE RAPIDS 


“Is that possible?” Then, after another long stare, 
“ It’s a very unusual face.” 

Mrs. Worden looked very happy. “ We’re going 
to take. great care of Elsie when we get her back. She 
had this long, delightful invitation and we let her go be- 
cause we thought she’d see more than she could in 
St. Marys, but she writes that it’s even quieter.” 

“ The dd St. Marys is nearly at an end and your 
daughter will find food for her imagination when she 
gets back. May I show this to Mr. Belding? ” 

The young man took the photograph with a queer 
sense of participation in something he did not under- 
stand. He saw a broad, low forehead, masses of soft 
and slightly curly hair, eyes that looked beautifully and 
wistfully out from beneath finely arched brows and a 
mouth that lacked nothing in humorous suggestion. 
Puzzling for an instant what it was that had attracted 
his impersonal chief, he heard the latter saying good 
night with customary abruptness. 

“ Come along, Belding ; we’ve got a long day ahead 
of us. The directors will be here to-morrow.” 

The judge was vastly interested. “ So St. Marys 
is in actual touch with Philadelphia?” 

“ Very much so, and in about two years St. Marys 
will loom very large in Philadelphia. Good night and 
thank you.” 

The wind was stinging and they drove home rather 
silently. Arriving at the big house, Clark went to the 
piano and played for a moment. The music ceased 
as suddenly as it began and, warming himself at the 
great stove in the hall, Belding heard a short laugh 
46 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


and an exclamation. “ Too much imagination,” ex- 
ploded Clark. The tone was one of utter incredulity. 
At that the young man felt curiously truculent. Elsie 
was only seventeen, while Clark was certainly not less 
than thirty-five. Then the latter reappeared, rubbing 
his chilled fingers. 

“ The piano is too stiff with cold to talk. By the 
way, Worden was talking about the bishop. What 
bishop? ” 

Belding told him what he knew. “ He’s an Irish- 
man and a fine man. He works this part of his diocese 
from St. Marys in the summer. One hears all kinds 
of stories about him from the woods and the islands. 
He’s got a sense of humor and is a good sportsman, 
but I’ve only met him once or twice. Just now he’s 
over in England raising money to buy a small yacht to 
navigate himself when he’s traveling on duty, and 
weather won’t stop him if he gets it. You’ll see him 
next spring.” 

Clark seemed interested. “ I don’t know many par- 
sons but that doesn’t describe them to me. A sports- 
man and a sense of humor, eh ? It sounds like a hunt- 
ing parson. I thought they were all dead.” 

“ This one isn’t.” 

“ St. Marys begins to offer more than I expected,” 
smiled his chief. “ Are you going to bed, or will you 
sit here and freeze to death ? ” 

Riggs, Stoughton, and Wimperley came up next day. 
Clark met them at the station, where a bitter wind was 
droning down from the north, and Belding, by engi- 
neering of a high order, made room for them at his 
4 7 


THE RAPIDS 


quarters. Then they drove out to the canal, and with 
Clark climbed the icy embankment while the latter ex- 
pounded the situation. 

“ There/’ he said cheerfully, “ will be the first power 
house, and there mill number one. ,, 

Riggs, a small thin-blooded man, peered at the glassy 
landscape. “ Splendid,” he chattered, while Stoughton 
pulled his fur collar over his ears and set his back to the 
wind. 

“ Up at the north end, — you can see it better if you 
step a little this way — will be the head gates. That 
railway trestle — you see that trestle don’t you, Wim- 
perley ? — ” 

Wimperley pulled himself together, but his feet had 
lost all feeling. “ Yes, any one could see that.” 

“ Well, that will be replaced by a steel bridge at the 
railway’s expense. We propose to widen the canal at 
that point to one hundred feet at the bottom, and 
now — ” here he seized the unfortunate Stoughton and 
swung him so that he faced into the chilling blast — “ I 
want to point out the booming ground for logs.” 

Stoughton muttered something that sounded like 
strong condemnation of all logs, but Clark did not seem 
to hear him. 

“ They’ll come round that point, swing into the bay 
and feed down this way to the mill. You get that, 
don’t you? ” 

They all got it, at least so they earnestly assured 
the speaker who stood with his overcoat half unbut- 
toned, his cap on the back of his head and apparently 
oblivious of the temperature. This frigid and desolate 
48 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


scene had no terrors for him. Beneath the icy skin 
he discovered its promise. 

“ There’ll be two booms — one for pulp wood and 
the other for hard wood for the veneer mills. You 
make hard wood float by driving plugs of lighter wood 
into both ends of the log. And now, if you’ll step 
down this way, I’ll show you where the dredges will 
start work.” 

“ Look here,” said Riggs in a quavering voice, 
“what’s the matter with my cheek? I can’t feel it.” 

Clark glanced at him and shook with sudden laugh- 
ter. “ Only a bit of frost bite, — perhaps we’d better 
go back to the office. It’s a pity, though,” — here 
he hesitated a little — “ there’s quite a lot more to 
see.” 

Whereupon Riggs and the other two at once assured 
him that unless they sought shelter forthwith they 
would flatly refuse to authorize the expenditure of any 
more money whatever in a country as blasted as this. 
After which they repaired to the office, where Belding 
waited with his blue prints and Clark outlined the pos- 
sible future. As he put it, these developments were 
only possible and depended on what that future might 
bring forth. But as he talked, Belding, for one, knew 
that the whole magnificent program had been definitely 
determined in that astonishing brain. 

They drove back in the open sleigh and the horses, 
chilled in the cold, sent the snow flying about their ears. 
There was but little talk and it was not until they drew 
abreast of a stone building that Stoughton spoke. 

“ Nice jail you’ve got here,” he remarked with a 

49 


THE RAPIDS 


grin. “ Looks as if they had been expecting our 
crowd.” 

Clark laughed. “ It’s the home of the only pessimist 
I have found in St. Marys.” 

“ Then let’s drop in and convert him.” Stoughton 
was feeling warmer, and the keen, dry air and brilliant 
sun affected him like wine. 

There was an instantaneous shout of approval, and 
three school boys in the shape of the three most in- 
fluential men of Philadelphia rolled happily out of the 
sleigh. Riggs turned with mischief in his eye and a 
bright red patch on his cheek. 

“ Come on, Clark ; we need something like this after 
the dose you have given us.” 

At the trampling of feet, Manson looked out of the 
window, then stepped deliberately to the door. The 
next minute Clark was busy introducing. “ Mr. Man- 
son, this is Mr. Wimperley, auditor of the Columbian 
Railway Company; Mr. Riggs, president of the Phila- 
delphia Bank, and Mr. Stoughton, of the American 
Iron Works. We’re all cold and cast ourselves on your 
mercy. They’ve had enough power canal for to-day.” 

Manson waved them in with just the gesture with 
which he motioned a prisoner into the dock. It was 
the only gesture he knew. His brain was working with 
unwonted rapidity, and he glanced questioningly at 
Clark, but the face of the latter was impassive. The 
visitors grouped themselves round the big box stove 
that was stuffed with blazing hardwood. 

“ Lived here long, Mr. Manson?” hazarded Riggs, 
stretching his thin fingers to the heat. 

50 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


“ All my life, gentlemen, and I don’t want any- 
thing else.” 

“ You haven’t been in jail for that time?” put in 
the irrepressible Stoughton. 

The big man relaxed to a smile. “ I’ve been in 
charge here for the last twenty-five years, and I like 
it.” 

The three glanced at him with a sudden and genuine 
interest. The man was so massive; his hair so black, 
and, at the age of fifty, still unstreaked with gray. 
His face was large and strong, with a certain Jovian 
quality in cheek, ear, and chin. He suggested latent 
physical powers that, if aroused, would be tremendous. 

“ Find it pretty quiet ? ” went on Stoughton. 

“ Yes, but that’s what I like.” 

“ Then you don’t entirely approve of our plans up 
at the rapids? At least, so Mr. Clark tells me.” 

Manson’s glance lifted and went straight into Clark’s 
gray eyes. 

“ No, I don’t believe in them, if,” he added, “ I can 
say so without offense.” 

Riggs stripped off his heavy fur coat, and turned 
his back to the stove. 

“ Just why, may I ask? ” 

“ Well, I have a feeling you’ll spoil St. Marys. It’s 
just right as it is. We haven’t much excitement and 
I reckon we don’t want it. We’re comfortable, so why 
can’t you let us alone ? I like the life as it is.” 

“ You’ll live faster after we get going,” chuckled 
Wimperley. 

“ Perhaps, but we won’t live so long. I’ve had a 
51 


THE RAPIDS 


lot of men through my hands who tried to live faster, 
and it didn’t agree with them — not that I’m mean- 
ing — ” The rest was lost in a riot of laughter, out 
of which Wimperley’s voice became audible. 

“If things go as we propose and expect, the people 
of St. Marys will profit very considerably, — there will 
be remarkable opportunities.” 

“ Meaning that, — ” a new light flickered in Manson’s 
black eyes for a fraction of a second and disappeared. 

“ Meaning that during the transformation of a vil- 
lage into a city a number of interesting changes take 
place.” 

“ Maybe, but such things can’t affect me very much.” 

“ Well, possibly not, but I’ve an idea they will. I’m 
afraid we can’t let St. Marys alone, Mr. Manson, and 
a little later on you’ll understand why. This land, for 
instance, between us and the river, is vacant.” 

Manson’s eye slowly traversed the two hundred yard 
width of the open field that lay just south of the road. 
It was perhaps half way between the rapids and the 
center of the village. 

“ Yes, I think Worden owns it, but I know that no 
one wants it.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Stoughton with a little laugh ; “ and now 
we must be getting on. Good-by, and thank you for 
saving our lives, even if you have had a crack at our 
project.” 

There was a sound of laughing voices on the porch 
and a jangle of sleigh bells that dwindled toward the 
village, but Manson did not seem to hear them. He 
stood blocking up the window, his hands thrust deep 
52 


PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS 


in his pockets, staring at the vacant lot across the 
street. 

Dinner that night cost Belding much searching of 
soul. “ There’ll be three more,” Clark had said, and 
forgotten all about it, but when the Philadelphians sat 
down Belding’s heart sank. On the table was a leg 
of mutton, placed hastily by an agitated servant lest it 
freeze between kitchen and dining room. Even while 
Belding carved it the gravy began to stiffen. Behind 
Clark was a glowing fireplace, ineffectual against the 
outside temperature, the windows were white with frost 
and the whole house seemed to creak. 

“ Have some mutton,” said the young man desper- 
ately. 

Riggs rubbed his thin hands. “ Thanks, I’m very 
fond of mutton. Do you mind if I put on my over- 
coat ? The floor seems a little cold.” He disappeared 
and returned muffled to the ears. 

“ You’d better hurry up with your food,” said Clark 
soberly. “ The human stomach cannot digest frozen 
sheep.” He glanced at Wimperley and Stoughton. 
“ What’s the matter with you fellows? ” 

The two visitors coughed and apologized and went 
in search of their overcoats. Clark began to laugh. 
“ And to think that you three are going back to fur- 
naces and steam heat. Do you realize what Belding 
and I are going through on your behalf ? ” 

They got through the meal somehow, but Belding 
was utterly abashed. The visitors played with the 
congealing mutton, poked at forbidding potatoes, ab- 
sorbed large quantities of scalding tea and then has- 
53 


THE RAPIDS 


tened back to the big stove. Belding felt a hand on 
his shoulder. 

“ It’s my fault. We should have let them go to the 
hotel. I suppose we’re used to it, they’re not.” 

Presently, Wimperley began to yawn. “ I’m go- 
ing to bed.” 

Riggs glanced apprehensively upstairs, where it was 
even colder than below. “ I’m going to sleep in my 
clothes. My God! pajamas on a night like this. 
Clark, what are you made of? ” 

In ten minutes the big stove was deserted, and Clark 
went from room to room tucking in his shivering visi- 
tors. 

“ You’re all right,” he said cheerfully at Stoughton’s 
door ; “ the house won’t get any colder because it can’t 
— and it’s only thirty below outside. We’re going to 
have a corking day to-morrow.” 


V.— THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


I T was not till spring came and the earth relaxed her 
stiff and reappearing bones that Clark really got to 
work, and then arrived the first battalions of that great 
influx which was soon to follow. Up at the rapids 
men and machinery became visible as though by magic. 
Belding had a curious sensation as he saw the product 
of his former plans well nigh obliterated in the larger 
excavation which now began to take shape. His 
earlier efforts took on their due proportion, and he 
smiled at the contrast, reveling in his opportunity for 
the full exercise of his ability. But it is probable 
that neither Belding nor any others amongst the lead- 
ing men who, in time, were gathered into the works, 
realized to what a degree they were animated by the 
mesmeric influence of Clark. 

By this time Bowers, another local appointment, was 
the legal representative of the Company, and the reposi- 
tory of great intentions which he guarded with scrupu- 
lous fidelity. Clark was redeeming his promise not to 
import that which the town could provide. And then 
he met the bishop. 

He saw the broad-shouldered, black-coated figure 
contemplating a steam shovel that was gnawing at the 
rocky soil beside the rapids. The bishop was a big 
man with a handsome head, well shaped legs adorned 
with episcopal gaiters, and a broad, deep chest. It 
was universally admitted that a less ample breast could 
not have contained so great a heart. 

55 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Good day, sir.” Clark involuntarily lifted his hat. 

The bishop held out a firm white hand. “ I’ve heard 
of you, Mr. Clark, and am glad to see that Mahomet 
has come to his mountain. It’s a little like a fairy 
tale to me.” 

“ I hope it may prove as attractive.” 

“ But I believe in fairies, we need them nowadays.” 

Clark smiled. “ I’m afraid that St. Marys doesn’t 
believe in them as yet, but I’ll do what I can.” 

“ I suppose you’ve met every one here in the course 
of the winter? ” 

“ Most I think. As a matter of fact one hasn’t 
much time.” 

“ That’s a new thing in winter in the North. Now 
show me what's going on, I’m vastly interested.” 

There was nothing that could have suited Clark bet- 
ter, and the two tramped about for an hour. At the 
end of it they stood near the head of the rapids and 
watched a coughing dredge tear into the soft bottom. 

“ I used to come up here to fish,” said the bishop 
thoughtfully, “ and once killed a six pound trout on a 
six ounce rod, but now you’re doing the fishing, and so 
it goes. Do you expect to begin operations in the 
woods next winter?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then I’ll need some more missionaries. You’re 
making a lot of work for me, but I like it.” 

His companion glanced up with sudden interest. 
They both liked work. It had been evident for an hour 
past in the prelate’s keen questions. It occurred to 
Clark that the influence of his own passion for creation 

56 


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


promised to affect a large number of people. But he 
had never dreamed of missionaries, and now the 
thought amused him. 

“ I see young Belding over there,” said the bishop as 
the engineer passed with a transit over his shoulder. 

“ Yes, my chief engineer.” 

“ A good chap and I’m glad he has the opening. I 
don’t know that he’s got much imagination, but a valu- 
able man as I see him. I have an idea,” he added 
quizzically, “ that you will supply all the imagination 
that is necessary.” 

Clark laughed. “ I hope to.” 

“ Had I not gone into the church I would have been 
a writer or an engineer,” said the bishop slowly. 
“ They have always seemed kindred pursuits, and I 
should have liked to be able to point to something 
physical and concrete and say * I made it.’ ” 

Clark was a little puzzled. He had it in mind that 
the bishop’s achievements would be, perhaps, more en- 
during than his own. He tried to put this into words. 

The big man shook his head. “ I hope I am making 
my mark, but who can say? You affect the color of 
men’s lives and I try to reach the complexion of their 
spirits.” He paused for a moment, then added, “ But 
between us we ought to do something. Good-by, and 
I hope you’ll come to one of my garden parties. I hear 
you don’t care for society, but you’ll like my straw- 
berries, and in the meantime I trust that all will pros- 
per. Even if St. Marys does not realize all this, does 
it matter ? ” 

“ Not in the slightest.” 


57 


THE RAPIDS 


The bishop strode off. A few paces away he 
halted. “ I’m no Moslem but I’m very glad to meet 
Mahomet/’ he called back ; “ good-by.” 

In June the general manager, for as such Clark was 
now known, gave a luncheon at the works, which was to 
remain long in the mind of at least one of the partici- 
pants. By this time he himself was beginning to with- / 
draw to that seclusion which added much to the fasci- 
nation of his personality. When his guests arrived 
they were turned over to Belding for a tour of inspec- 
tion, and then, filled with interest and surprise, sat 
down to the meal Clark had had prepared in the small 
marquee. Now he appeared himself, the genius of 
the place, and sat at the head of the table. 

Looking back at the curious relationship in which 
this man stood to the people of St. Marys, it seems that 
he liked them more than he cared to express, for the 
expression of any sentiment was strange to his lips. 
He could do much for them, and did it, while, at the 
same time, he asked nothing for himself. When not 
in action, Clark was particularly silent, but when really 
in action he approached his subject with obvious joy 
and interest, and coupled with this was his natural in- 
stinct for impressive and dramatic situations. Some- 
thing of this had been recognized by Filmer and the 
others who came to lunch, so that, afterwards, when 
he threw out a hint, the only one on record, it met with 
immediate attention. He was talking to Worden when 
his eye drew Filmer into the conversation. 

“ I have been wondering whether any of you gentle- 
men have bought any land? ” 

58 


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


The effect was that of a stone thrown into a pool, 
and one could see the ripples of interest spreading. 
But it was so unexpected that there followed a little 
silence, broken presently by a laugh from Filmer. 

“ What land ? ” 

Clark waved a casual hand north and east. “ Any 
land over there.” 

He got no immediate reply. The minds of his 
guests were traversing the flat fields in which cattle 
grazed, that lay between the rapids and the town. 

“ You have seen to-day something of what we pro- 
pose to do, but only some of it,” he went on. “ What’s 
the present population of St. Marys ? ” 

“ About sixteen hundred,” said Filmer thoughtfully. 

“ Well, gentlemen, assume that what you have seen 
is but the beginning, only the breaking of the ground. 
You may take it from me, you are safe in that. The 
population of St. Marys, five years from to-day, should 
be, — ” here he paused for an impressive moment — 
“ sixteen thousand, and in ten years, twenty-six thou- 
sand. Now where are those people going to live? 
Mr. Manson, here, doesn’t take me quite seriously, but 
you, Judge, can you answer me; or you, Mr. Filmer? 
A good deal of it will fall on your shoulders.” 

“ I don’t doubt you,” answered the mayor, “ but I 
can use all my money in my business.” 

“ As for me, I’m a government official and haven’t 
any,” added Worden, with a tinge of regret. 

“ Money has been borrowed before this ” — Clark’s 
tones were distinctly impersonal — “ the bank is good 
and so is the future of the town, as I see it.” 

59 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Why don’t you buy some yourself? ” 

“ I don’t want any more money,” said Clark very 
simply, “ but, gentlemen, I don’t assume that every one 
feels that way. From this window I can see farm 
lands that can be bought for forty dollars an acre on 
easy terms, and how would you feel if, after two or 
three years, it changed hands at a thousand ? I merely 
mention this because I’ve seen it take place elsewhere. 
Now I’m not going to say that it’s going to be worth a 
thousand, and I’m not persuading you. I never per- 
suade any one, at least,” he added with a little smile, 
“ not in St. Marys. I only draw your attention to the 
circumstances and leave the rest of it, of course, to 
your own judgment.” 

“ Then you suggest that we buy? ” came in Dibbott. 

“ Nothing of the kind. It’s a matter of indifference 
to me whether you gentlemen do the buying or some 
one else. All I can prophesy is, that it’s going to be 
done, but not by me or my associates. We have enough 
to occupy our attention for some time to come.” 

Manson edged a bit nearer. “ The idea is that while 
you’re investing millions, we take no risk in investing 
hundreds, eh? ” 

“ I made no such inference. You will remember 
that so far as St. Marys is concerned I have depended 
on the town for nothing since my first proposal was 
accepted.” 

Dibbott nodded. “ That’s right. I reckon we’re 
going to be a residential suburb to the works.” 

Clark smiled a little. “ I lean on just four things, 
and St. Marys supplied none of them.” 

60 


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


“ What are they? ” 

“ Natural laws, physical geography, ample financial 
backing, and the need of the world for certain manu- 
factured products. And,” he concluded quizzically, 
“ you’d better forget that I said anything about land.” 

There was something suggestively final about this, 
and presently the group moved off, loitering across the 
flat, untenanted fields. Manson was in the rear, de- 
capitating daisies with his heavy oak stick. A few 
minutes later Clark looked up and saw the chief con- 
stable’s bulk filling the doorway. He waited placidly. 

“ Did you mean just what you said about that land ? ” 
Manson’s voice sounded a little sheepish, “ because I’ve 
got a bit saved up, and — ” 

“ Mr. Manson,” struck in Clark, “ you may approve 
of me personally, but I know that you don’t believe in 
my project. You’ve been at no pains to conceal that 
and I respect you for it, but that being the case why 
should you, of all men, be interested in land? No, no, 
don’t protest. I don’t mind what you think and you’ve 
a perfect right to your own opinion. What did I say 
about land ? Did I advise you to buy ? ” 

“ No, but you evidently wondered why we didn’t.” 

Clark laughed outright. “ I wonder at many things, 
that’s my privilege, and anything I said just now is in 
contradiction to your judgment. You strike me as be- 
ing a man of strong views, so by all means hold on to 
them.” 

But Manson’s eyes were turned fixedly on the main 
chance and he could not look away. “ Of course, I 
may be wrong,” he began awkwardly, “ but — ” 

61 


THE RAPIDS 


“ And, of course, I may be too, and now you’ll ex- 
cuse me, I’ve a good deal to attend to.” 

Very slowly the chief constable took his way to 
town. Like many who came in contact with Clark 
he had conceived the impression of a strong and pierc- 
ing intelligence that, while it gave out much, withheld 
more ; and it was what he imagined was withheld that 
now piqued and stimulated the austerely masked project 
he had had in view ever since Clark’s directors had so 
breezily invaded his office months before. Manson 
was, in truth, an example of those who, externally im- 
passive and unemotional, harbor at times a secret and 
consuming thought at variance with all outward sem- 
blance, and, keeping this remotely hidden, feed it with 
all the concentrated fire of an otherwise inactive imag- 
ination. That afternoon he quietly secured an option 
on a portion of the fields across which he walked so 
stolidly, and, with this as a beginning, turned his 
thoughts to the acquisition of more and more land. 
Simultaneously his expressed views on the outcome 
of Clark’s activities became more pessimistic than 
ever. 

Early that summer the streets of St. Marys were 
torn with trenches and the glass fronts of the wooden 
stores trembled with the vibration of blasting. The 
pipe lines followed exactly the route laid out by the 
blue prints Belding had long since deposited with the 
town council, and so well known was this route that 
the slightest variation would have been pounced upon 
instantly. Clark, it appeared, did not take much in- 
terest in the work, but turned it over entirely to the 
62 


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


engineer, his own imagination having moved to other 
things. 

New faces in the town ceased to create comment, and, 
what was more to the point, mention of St. Marys 
began to appear in metropolitan papers. These were 
read with the peculiar thoroughness of those who, for 
the first time, found themselves of definite interest to 
the outside world. Simultaneously the air became full 
of prophecy, rambling and inchoate. The citizens had 
not yet come to regard developments as being in any 
particular their own. They had — for the best rea- 
sons — put no money in, but now began to profit by 
changed conditions. The works were still a thing 
apart, a new and somewhat romantic area from which 
anything, however startling, might any day materialize. 
Sometimes a few Indians paddled up to trade and, 
leaving Filmer’s store, would slip silently up stream, 
and edging into the backwater at the foot of the rapids, 
lay their paddles across the thwarts and stare silently 
at the great structures that began to arise. And this, 
in a way, was the attitude of most of the folk of St. 
Marys. They were in it but not of it, and the long 
somnolence of the past was too tranquil to be easily 
dispelled. But in spite of their indifference the mas- 
terful hand of Clark had set the town definitely on the 
industrial map. A little later, the water was turned 
on and rows and rows of electric lights glittered down 
the streets. It was just about this time that Clark 
summoned Belding and told him that he desired a 
house. 

This command was, in a way, so intimate that Beld- 

63 


THE RAPIDS 


ing looked foolish. “ What kind of a house? ” he said 
awkwardly. 

Clark leaned back in his chair. “ You know how, 
years ago, the Hudson Bay Company built block houses 
for their factors? Well, I want one such as the com- 
pany used to build, and I expect to be ready to occupy 
it within six weeks.” 

Belding had learned not to ask too many questions, 
so, for a moment thought hard. “ Where? ” he ven- 
tured. 

“ You remember where the old Hudson Bay lock is, 

— just a hundred feet beyond that. By the way, do 
you know how to build a block house? ” 

Belding got a little red. He had designed power 
houses and pulp mills and canals and head gates, but 
a block house baffled him. 

“ In those days,” began Clark ruminatively, “ they 
were places of defense. Two stories, the bottom one 
of stone so that the Indians couldn’t set fire to it. 
That part is eight feet high and had loopholes. On top 
is the other story built of logs, and, by the way, I want 
my logs peeled and varnished, and with a pitched roof. 
That part overhangs the other by about five feet all 
round, and that was to make it possible to drop things 
on the Indians if they did get up to the loopholes. Got 
the idea? And, by the way, I want the Hudson Bay 
lock cleaned out and rebuilt just as it was before. No 
cement — but random masonry and gates of hewn 
timber — they hewed everything a hundred years ago 

— grass around it and a sign saying what it was 
and when. Fix it up and make a job of it — that’s 

64 


THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA 


all, and make that block house basement of field stone 
— you can see why.” 

Whereupon Clark turned to a pile of letters and 
telegrams and promptly forgot all about Belding. 

In six weeks, to a day, he moved in, and it is a ques- 
tion whether any of his subsequent achievements oc- 
casioned such interest in St. Marys. Old inhabitants 
were there who had memories of the Hudson Bay 
Company and the thirty foot bark canoes that once voy- 
aged from Lake Superior, and, treading the upper 
reaches of a branch of the rapids, slid into the old lock 
and were let gingerly down while the crew held their 
paddles against the rough stone walls of the tiny but 
ancient chamber. 

Now the thing in its entirety had been recreated. 
The block house sat squat beside the lock, with its 
mushroom top projecting just as in years before. 
Clark, it seemed, was, after all traditional, and not 
one who lived entirely in the future, and with this 
touch of romance he took new attributes. His Jap- 
anese cook inhabited the lower story through which 
one entered to mount to the main floor. Inside the 
place revealed the taste of the man of the world. It 
looked pigmy beside the enormous structures which be- 
gan to rise hard by, but was all the more diminutively 
impressive. One passed it on the way to the works, 
and often by night drifted out the sound of Clark’s 
piano mingling with the dull boom of the rapids. For 
it would seem that these were the two voices to which 
the brain of this extraordinary man took most heed. 


65 


VI.— CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A 
GIRL 

YEAR passed and the folk of St. Marys had 



X“\. not yet accustomed themselves to drawing water 
from a tap and turning on the light with a switch ere 
Clark began a frontal attack on the resources of- the 
country to the north. It was typical of his methods 
that he invariably used new agencies by which to ap- 
proach affairs which, in the main, differed from those 
already existing. Thus he called on many and widely 
separated individuals, who, answering his imperious 
summons, fell straightway under the spell of his re- 
markable personality, and found themselves shortly in 
positions of increasing responsibility. They became 
the heads of various activities, but, in a way, the sec- 
ondary heads, for Clark retained all kingship for him- 
self. So it came that as months passed he was sur- 
rounded by a constantly increasing band of active and 
loyal retainers. 

Such was John Baudette, for whom Clark had sent 
to talk pulp wood, but, it is recorded, that Baudette’s 
manner and bearing changed not at all when Clark 
stared at him across the big flat topped desk and re- 
marked evenly that he wanted pulp wood and was 
assured that there was an ample supply within fifty 
miles. 

Baudette’s hard blue eyes met the stare placidly. 
“ Yes, there is pulp wood north of here.” 


66 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD ‘AND A GIRL 


“ I know it, because I’ve had some,” said Clark, 
“ but I want fifty thousand cords next May and 
seventy-five thousand the year after.” 

Baudette felt in a way more at home, but he had 
never contemplated seventy-five thousand cords of 
wood. “ Am I to go and take it?” 

Clark laughed, then settled back with the shadow 
of a smile on his lips, and bent on the woodsman that 
swift inspection which discomforted so many. It em- 
barrassed Baudette not at all. He was rather small 
and of slight build, but he was constructed in the man- 
ner of a bundle of steel wire that enfolds a heart of in- 
flexible determination. On casual inspection he did not 
appear to be a strong man, but his body was a mass 
of tireless sinew. His eyes were of that cold, hard 
blue which is the color of fortitude, his face clean 
shaven and rather thin; his jaw slightly underhung, his 
lips narrow and tightly compressed. In demeanor he 
was quiet and almost shy, but it was the quietness of 
one who has spent his days in the open, and the shy- 
ness of a life which has dealt* with simple things in a 
simple but efficient way. The longer Clark looked at 
him the more he liked this new discovery. Presently 
he began to talk. 

“ I want a man to take charge of my forest depart- 
ment, and one who has got his experience at the ex- 
pense of some one else. We need pulp wood in larger 
quantities than have been required in this country be- 
fore. Next year we begin to grind wood that you will 
cut this winter.” 

The little man neither moved nor took his eyes from 

67 


THE RAPIDS 


Clark’s face, and the latter, with the faintest twitch of 
his lip, went on. 

“ I’m satisfied that this wood exists in ample quan- 
tities and the rest is up to you. You can have any 
reasonable salary you ask for.” 

“ Where are the timber limits?” Baudette said 
quietly. He was, apparently, uninterested in the mat- 
ter of salary. 

Clark flattened out a big map of the district that 
obliterated the piles of letters and telegrams. Bau- 
dette’s eyes brightened. He loved maps, but never be- 
fore had he seen one so minute and comprehensive. 

“ That’s compiled from all available surveys and rec- 
ords. It took three months to make it. I was getting 
ready for you.” 

Baudette nodded. He was interested in how the 
thing was compiled, and his eyes traced the birth and 
flow of rivers and the great sweep of well remembered 
lakes. Presently Clark’s voice came in again. 

“ Where’s the best pulp wood? We’ve been getting 
it from everywhere.” 

A lean brown forefinger slid slowly over the edge 
of the map. Clark noted its delicacy and strength. It 
halted a moment at St. Marys, then, as though Bau- 
dette counted the miles, traversed the shore of Superior 
and turned into a great bay to the westward. At the 
belly of the bay the finger struck inland following a 
wide river, and halted in a triangle of land where the 
river forked. Baudette looked up and nodded. 

“ Ah ! ” said Clark thoughtfully. “ How much 
good wood is there ? ” 


68 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL 


The forefinger commenced an irregular course dur- 
ing which it struck into salients that followed up lesser 
and tributary streams. It had enclosed perhaps five 
hundred square miles of Canadian territory when it 
reached its starting point. 

“ Four years' wood.” Baudette’s voice was still im- 
pressive. 

The other man smiled as though in subdued mirth, 
and with a red pencil outlined the area. Following 
this his eyes rested contemplatively on the lumberman 
who sat still focussed on the map. 

“ Come back in two weeks,” he said suddenly. 
“ Good morning.” 

Baudette glanced at him, and went out so quietly 
that there was not the sound of a footstep. Clark’s 
manner of speech and person had set him thinking as 
never before. Ten thousand cords of wood a year was 
the usual order of things, but of fifty thousand cords 
he had never dreamed. 

He had a new set of sensations which filled him 
with a novel confidence in his own powers. He was 
reacting, like all the others, to the intimate touch of a 
communicative confidence. He passed thoughtfully 
through the general office, noting as he closed the 
door that on a bench near Clark’s door sat Fisette, a 
French half breed whom he knew. He remarked also 
that Fisette’s pockets were bulging, it seemed, with 
rocks. 

A moment later Fisette was summoned. He went 
in, treading lightly on the balls of his feet, and lean- 
ing forward as though under a load on a portage. 
69 


THE RAPIDS 


Clark’s office always frightened him a little. The 
rumble of the adjoining power house, the great bulk of 
the buildings just outside, the masses of documents,- — 
all of this spoke of an external power that puzzled and, 
in a way, worried him. He halted suddenly in front 
of the desk. 

“Well?” said Clark, without offering him a seat, 
for Fisette was more at ease when he stood. 

The half breed felt in his pockets. The other un- 
rolled a duplicate of the map he had shown Baudette 
and held out his hand, in which Fisette placed some 
pieces of rock. 

At the weight and chill of them, Clark experienced 
a peculiar thrill, then, under a magnifying glass he ex- 
amined each with extreme care, turning them so that the 
light fell fair on edge and fracture. One after an- 
other he scrutinized, while the breed stood motionless. 

“Where do they come from?” he said shortly. 

The breed made a little noise in his throat, and his 
dark eyes rested luminously on the keen face. After a 
little he gathered the samples and disposed them on 
the map, laying each in that comer of the wilderness 
from which it had been broken. He did this with the 
deliberation of one who knew beyond all question. He 
had brought months of hardship and exposure in his 
pocket. By swamp and hill, valley and lake and rapid 
he had journeyed alone in search of the gray, heavy, 
shiny rock of which Clark had, months before, given 
him a fragment, with curt orders to seek the like. The 
small, angular pieces were all arranged, and his chief 
stared at them with profound geological interest. Fi- 
70 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL 

sette did not move. He had looked forward to this 
moment. 

“ They’re no good,” came the level voice, after a 
pause, “ but you’re in the right country. Go back for 
another two months. You’ll get it yet. It should be 
near this,” he picked up a sample. “ Take what men 
you want, or no, don’t take any. I want you-to do 
this yourself, and don’t talk. Good morning.” 

Fisette nodded dumbly. The moment had come and 
gone and he felt a little paralyzed. 

“ Here, have a cigar.” 

He took one, such a cigar as he had never seen, large, 
dark and fat with a golden band around its plump 
middle. He glanced at Clark, who apparently had 
forgotten him, and went silently out. On the doorstep 
he paused, slid off the golden band and put it in his 
pocketbook, cupped a lighted match between his pol- 
ished palms, took one long luxurious breath and started 
thoughtfully to town with worship and determination 
in his breast. 

Clark, from the office window, was looking down at 
his broad back in a moment of abstraction. At Fi- 
sette’s departure he had suddenly plunged into one of 
those moods so peculiar to his temperament. Beside 
the half breed he seemed to perceive Stoughton, and with 
Baudette he discerned the figure of Riggs, and so on till 
there were marshalled before him the whole battalion 
of those who were caught up in the onward march. 
He realized, without any hesitation, that should Baud- 
ette fail in his work, the magnificent bulk of the great 
pulp mill would be but a futile shell. And should the 
7i 


THE RAPIDS 


prospecting pick of the half-breed not uncover that 
which he sought, the entire enterprise would lack its 
basic security. But it was characteristic of the man 
that this vision brought with it no depression, but 
seemed rather to point to ultimate success in the very 
blending of diverse elements that strove together to- 
wards the same end. 

Two weeks later, Baudette returned and looked ques- 
tioningly at his chief. In very few words he ex- 
plained that the fortnight had been spent in the woods 
and that what he had said was correct. 

Clark listened silently. Here was a man to his lik- 
ing. When the lumberman finished he again unrolled 
the big map, but this time instead of the wavering red 
pencil line, there was the bold demarcation of a much 
greater area, which Belding’s draughtsman had plotted 
in professional style. In the middle of it was the ter- 
ritory Baudette had previously indicated. 

“ I thought we’d better be safe, and got this • — from 
the Government. Go to the chief accountant in the 
outside office. Give him an estimate of what money 
you need for the next six months — and get to work — 
Good morning.” 

Baudette merely nodded and disappeared. There 
was too much in his mind to admit of expressing it, 
but, even had he felt conversational, there was a final- 
ity about his disimssal that left no opening. He went 
away charged with a grim determination. Here was 
the chance he had been waiting for all his life. 

And Clark had, by this time, labelled Baudette as a 
valuable and dependable man. He forthwith forgot 
72 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL 


all about him, and went back to the memory of Baud- 
ette’s forefinger as it pushed its way up to the Magwa 
River. It flashed upon him that, in the course of a 
vehemently active life, he had built practically all 
things save one. At that he fell into a reverie which 
ended with the pressing of a button that flashed a small 
red light on Belding’s desk. A moment later he 
glanced keenly at his chief engineer. 

“ Belding, you have done railway work. What does 
a standard gauge road cost in this country ? ” 

“Where is the road to be built?” Belding dis- 
played no surprise. The time for that had long passed, 
and, he silently concluded, the presidency of a railroad 
would suit Clark admirably. 

“ Up the Magwa River.” 

“ And the maximum grades 7 ” 

“ Suitable for freight haulage to this point. We run 
with the water,” added Clark with one of his rare 
smiles, “ you ought to know that.” 

“ About thirty thousand a mile,” answered Belding 
steadily, the trouble being that when his chief’s imagi- 
nation took strong hold of him he was apt to diverge 
from the point. 

“ Then you will send out survey parties and get de- 
tailed estimates when the surveys are in.” 

“ How far is the road to run? The head waters of 
the Magwa are one hundred and fifty miles from its 
mouth.” 

Clark’s lips tightened a little. “ As far as the pulp 
wood is good. I don’t care how far that is — and, 
Belding — ” 


73 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I have decided to double the size of the mill. Let 
me have plans and estimates for that too.” 

Belding went on, his head swimming, and walked 
slowly toward the head gates through which Lake Su- 
perior flowed obediently to do Clark’s will. It seemed 
now that his chief had reached the point where the 
god in the machine must make some grievous error. 
He was insatiable. Presently two figures approached. 
One was Judge Worden, the other a girl. The former 
waved his stick. 

“ We’re going to see Mr. Clark. Elsie, this is Mr. 
Belding.” 

The girl smiled and put out a slim hand. “ I’ve 
heard all about you — did you make all this ? ” Her 
brown eyes roved, taking in the great sweep of rising 
structures. 

“ In a way, yes,” he laughed, “ that is I did what I 
was told.” 

“ Mr. Belding is chief engineer,” put in the judge 
assuringly. 

She nodded. “ You told me. I — I think it’s rather 
wonderful. If anything had to happen to the rapids, 
this is just right.” 

Belding made no immediate answer. He was study- 
ing the girl’s face, her supple figure, and the intelligence 
that marked every expression. It struck him that she 
was meant to be some man’s comrade. 

“ I’m glad you like it,” he said a little awkwardly, 
“ there’s lots more to come.” 

The judge touched Elsie’s arm. “That’s what I 

74 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL 


want to hear about at the block house, and I hope you’ll 
have supper with us next Sunday, Mr. Belding. I hear 
you are too busy for a weekday diversion.” 

Elsie smiled approval and they turned down the long 
embankment. ^ 

Belding looked after them with a shade of resent- 
ment. She was, he had decided, just like her photo- 
graph. In the distance he had seen Clark walking 
quickly towards his visitors. They met a hundred 
yards away and Clark’s eyes began to twinkle. 

“ How do you do. I seem to know you quite well 
already.” 

Elsie flushed. She had pictured Clark in her ro- 
mantic brain, but this trim figure resembled none of her 
expectations. 

“ I’m very sorry,” he went on quickly, “ that urgent 
business will keep me in the office all afternoon. I’ve 
just a few minutes.” 

“ Then we’U be off at once,” announced the judge. 

“ Not at all, if there’s anything here to interest you, 
the place is yours.” 

Elsie glanced at him curiously. She was conscious 
both of disappointment and of a certain invitational 
thrill. His assurance was not just what she had looked 
for, but yet it stimulated her thought. He was very 
different from every one else. Decision marked him 
and a flash that was breathless seemed to reach her. 
Imagination lay in his quick change of expression and 
in the depths of the gray eyes. This was the man 
who dreamed great dreams. 

“ The next time you are up this way I hope you and 

75 


THE RAPIDS 


your friends will come to the block house.” He was 
looking at her with evident interest. “ You may not 
like it, but, I think you will, — it makes a background 
for this ” ; he pointed to the works, “ and I find it 
restful. I live quite alone except for a Japanese cook, 
and,” he added with a laugh, “ he’s part of the back- 
ground.” 

Elsie accepted and, for an instant, caught Clark’s 
full glance. In a fraction of time there passed be- 
tween them a swift and subconscious exchange of un- 
derstanding that subsided almost ere it was born. 
Then he took off his hat and hastened towards his 
office. 

For a little while she did not speak, for she was 
filled with the perception that between herself and this 
stranger lay something they held in common. Could 
it be imagination ? 

“ What do you think of Mr. Belding?” asked the 
judge reflectively as he stepped round a shattered 
boulder. 

Elsie started. “ Why do you ask? ” 

The judge’s brows went up. “ Why shouldn’t I? ” 

The girl pulled herself together with an effort., “ I 
was thinking of something else when you spoke, — he 
seems very nice indeed.” 

“ He has a good salary, a good position and a good 
future,” hazarded the judge. “ I’m glad you like him.” 

Later that evening, Belding turned homeward, his 
work finished, and, walking close to the shore, looked 
across the black river to the blaze of light at the works. 
On one side and low down he made out the glow from 
76 


CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL 


the block-house windows. He could imagine Clark 
at the piano. 

But his chief had deserted the piano and given him- 
self up to a rare hour of retrospect. He was under no 
misapprehension with regard to St. Marys. The town 
was growing in jerky spurts, as the old inhabitants took 
on new courage, or new blood came in from outside. 
Filmer, who with the exception of Bowers and Beld- 
ing, was closer to Clark than any of the rest, enlarged 
his store, and new shops began to appear nearer the 
rapids. Manson’s premises were populated with an 
assortment from the small army of laborers at the 
works, and a new hotel was under construction. But, 
in the main, it was only by stress of business demands 
that any expansion was made. The strangers, who 
constantly appeared on the streets, ceased to be a cause 
of curiosity, and the folk of St. Marys left it to them 
to start new enterprises. 

As to Clark, himself, he began to be almost invisible 
to the townspeople. There was nothing, after all, to 
bring him to town. Others came to him. And ever 
the call of the rapids grew louder and more dominant 
in his active brain. Others slept when he was awake, 
and his imagination, caught up in a tremendous belief 
in the future of the country, explored the horizon for 
new avenues and enterprises, while the conclusions of 
his prophetic mind filled him with unfailing confidence. 
He had now achieved the ability to arrive intuitively at 
results reached by others after long and arduous labor. 
This faculty was one of his outstanding gifts, no less 
than his mesmeric and communicative influence. 

77 


VII.— THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY — 

AND AFTERWARDS 

S OME three miles down the river from the block- 
house and on the east side of St. Marys lived the 
bishop. Of him it might be said that, like Clark’s, his 
reputation extended far beyond the boundaries of this 
northern district. But between these two, so alike in 
their magnetic qualities, lay a substantial difference. 
Clark expressed himself in large undertakings and great 
physical structures, while the bishop worked in the 
hearts of men. 

It was the custom of this most amiable prelate to 
give a garden party once a year, to which came most 
of the adult population of St. Marys. The house, a 
square gray stone block, lay at the edge of the bush and 
around it was a spacious lawn from which one could 
saunter through the vegetable garden and into the 
stable, and on this lawn, his hands clasped behind his 
back, his head bent forward in thought, the bishop 
might often be observed, a modern St. Francis, plunged 
in profound thought. 

Now, looking contentedly at the groups around him, 
he concluded that never before had his party been so 
well attended. Dibbott and Filmer and Bowers were 
there with their wives, and young Belding with the 
Wordens. The Presbyterian minister and the Catholic 
priest were admiring the strawberries, and Manson’s 
deep voice came from a cluster of men nearby. Most 

78 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


of the ladies wore spotless white dresses that crackled 
as they moved. In the study the bishop’s desk was 
obliterated by dishes of strawberries and cream, and at 
the front gate the hired man took charge of the buggies 
and tethered the horses to the long fence of the pasture 
field. Three hundred yards away the river sparkled 
in a clear, light blue. It was all very bright and ani- 
mated. Presently the bishop caught the young engi- 
neer’s eyes and beckoned. 

“ Mr. Belding,” he said, smiling, “ I’m aware that 
you’re very much occupied just now with important 
things, but I’ve been wondering, just the same, if you’d 
help me with something.” 

“ What is it, Bishop ? ” 

“ I want a pro-cathedral, which is, as you know, that 
which does instead of a cathedral. Every summer the 
church here seems to get smaller, and I believe I could 
fill a bigger one.” 

Belding laughed. He, like the rest, knew that the 
largest church in the country could not hold those who 
flocked to hear this golden voice. 

“How much money is available?” he hazarded, 
“ and have you any idea what it is intended to spend. 
What about plans ? ” 

“ That’s just it, we have no money and, of course, no 
plans, but, considering the amount of building material 
you use every day, it struck me that there might be laid 
aside enough to construct what I want without causing 
any hardship.” 

Belding hesitated, but so friendly was the look on 
the bishop’s face and so quizzical the glance of the large 
79 


THE RAPIDS 


brown eyes that he felt immediately prompted to build 
a pro-cathedral. He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“ History has it that not so very long ago a certain 
young engineer expressed that which was highest in his 
nature by building a cathedral. Think it over. ,, And 
with that the bishop turned to the Indian agent who 
was moving mountainously across the lawn. 

“ Well, Mr. Dibbott, it seems just the other day when 
I arrived first in St. Marys and drove under a green 
arch at Mr. Filmer’s dock and the entire population met 
me. One couldn't achieve that now. Great things 
are happening.” 

“ You mean up at the works, sir? ” 

“ Yes. I went over them again last week and had 
a short talk with Mr. Clark — a very remarkable man 
— though, I confess that so far I have not observed 
him at church. I touched on that as a matter of 
fact.” 

Dibbott’s pale blue eyes opened a little wider. “ And 
what did he say? ” 

“ He said that from his point of view the church 
was too divided within itself to impress him very 
forcibly.” 

“ Ah! ” grunted Dibbott • — “ and then? ” 

“ I came back at him with the fact that the church 
was naturally divided by the moods of its followers.” 

“ It’s so, sir, we all know it.” 

The bishop cast an interested glance over the groups 
that now covered the lawn. He seemed not in the least 
depressed at the inward troubles of the church. Pres- 
ently his eyes began to twinkle. “ It’s perfectly true. 
80 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


There are three schools of thought, that I’ve observed 
myself.” 

“What are they? ” said Worden, who had silently 
come up. 

“Platitudinarian; latitudinarian ; attitudinarian,” 
came the answer, with a chuckle, then, turning to Fil- 
mer, who had stepped over to hear the joke, he added, 
“ What do you think of my boat? ” and pointed to a 
slim, black, two-masted steam-yacht that lay anchored 
just off the shore. 

It was common knowledge that the bishop had spent 
part of a winter abroad collecting funds, and it was 
further admitted that it was impossible for him to visit 
the multitude of islands that lay in his charge without 
some independent means of transportation, but St. 
Marys was not yet aware that the trick had been 
turned. 

“ She means three months’ work,” went on the bishop 
thoughtfully, but without a shade of self-satisfaction, 
“ and the biggest subscription I got was a hundred 
pounds. The smallest was from the owner of a large 
steamship line. He gave me one of the Company’s of- 
ficial prayer books — and I never before felt about the 
prayer book just as I did about that one. I was beg- 
ging mostly in England, and traveled about like a sort 
of mitered mendicant, addressing missionary meetings. 
It was the elderly ladies who did it, bless ’em. Then 
I went down to Cowes in the Isle of Wight and you 
see the result. There she is, solid oak and teak, a com- 
pound engine, twelve miles an hour, and good, I think, 
for any sea, no matter how tempestuous. I won’t care 
81 


THE RAPIDS 


now if there is no railway connection in half my 
diocese/’ 

The others smiled and Filmer stroked his bushy, 
black whiskers. “ You’re going to be a regular sybar- 
ite,” he ventured. 

“ No,” chuckled the bishop, “ an anchorite.” And 
with that sent his mind up stream to the rapids and the 
activity at the works. “ I’m interested to see how 
much has been done here in what is really so short a 
time, only two years. It all seems to me so magnificent 
in its scope, and, as for Mr. Clark, who is evidently the 
center of the thing, one cannot but admire his incredible 
energy. I understand we have to thank our mayor for 
a good deal of it. Don’t you agree with me, Mr. Man- 
son? ” 

The chief constable, whose bulk had drawn up be- 
side the others, shook his head gloomily. His face 
and manner were, in spite of his surroundings, still 
austere. 

“ No, sir, I don’t admire Mr. Clark.” 

“ But why?” 

“ Because, as I see it, he is only squandering the 
money of people whom he has hypnotized. He’s got 
no balance, and the only thing he cares about is to spend 
— spend — spend.” 

Filmer smiled meaningly. The bishop glanced at 
him puzzled, then turned to Manson. 

“ Then you’re not in any way impressed? ” 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ Well,” came the deep, rich voice, “ I must confess 
that I am, not only by what he spends but also by the 
82 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


undeniable fact that he has filled my church and your 
jail. Perhaps they go together,” he added with a con- 
tagious grin. 

Dibbott looked slightly shocked, but the bishop went 
on after an eloquent glance at Filmer. 

“ I found much that was admirable up there. It’s 
true that we don’t see eye to eye in certain things that 
appear all important to me, but perhaps also that was 
to be expected. Now will you excuse me a moment? 
I see two friends out by the roadside who haven’t on 
their party clothes.” 

His gaitered legs struck off across the lawn and Fil- 
mer’s glance followed the powerful figure as it halted 
at the fence beside two Indians who waited irresolutely 
while their dark eyes explored the animated scene. 
The bishop, seemingly forgetful of all else, entered into 
an earnest conversation, during which a copper colored 
palm was held out to him, and in the palm the group 
could see something small and round that gleamed 
softly in the late afternoon sun. At that the bishop 
shook his head gravely and the palm was withdrawn, 
when there followed more talk in lowered tones, after 
which he vaulted the fence and came slowly back, his 
lips compressed and a quizzical smile on his big hand- 
some face. He shot a look at the group but said noth- 
ing. 

“What is it, sir?” asked Dibbott. 

“ Something that touches our conversation, curiously 
enough. Those two Indians have just paddled up from 
the settlement to ask me to bless a silver bullet, and 
they are parishioners of mine too.” 

&3 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Why? ” put in Manson abruptly. 

“ They say the bullet is to kill a wolf who is haunting 
the neighborhood and is possessed by a spirit of a bad 
man who died there only recently. He apparently has 
an insatiable appetite for Indian children, though no 
damage has been done as yet. It must have been a 
Unitarian spirit since he is evidently a one idea wolf,” 
he pursued with a provocative grimace at the stolid 
Manson who was of that persuasion. 

The others roared, but Manson, without a smile, 
held his ground. 

“ Why a bullet that has been blessed ? ” 

tl They assure me it is the only kind that can kill an 
animal inhabited by a spirit.” The bishop’s hand stole 
up to his jaw, in a favorite gesture. “ Our conver- 
sation suggested the matter of Mr. Clark.” 

Filmer and the rest racked their brains in vain, then 
pleaded for light. 

“ Well,” went on the deep voice, “ these Indians 
profess the Christian faith, yet they get into their bark 
canoes and paddle twelve miles against the wind and 
up stream with a petition that I do something that is 
dead against that faith, I mean the blessing of a bullet 
to arm it with supernatural power. Our friend, Mr. 
Clark, on the other hand, does not, so far as I know, 
profess any faith at all, though I should undoubtedly be 
asked to bury him should such a thing be unfortunately 
necessary, yet he does many things that I consider ad- 
mirable without asking any blessing or unction or spe- 
cial recognition of any kind. I cannot see him, for 
instance, as a man who would use his friends for his 
84 


THE BISHOPS GARDEN PARTY 


own advantage or their money for his personal profit. 
In fact,” he hesitated a little and then continued with 
that utter candcwr which characterized his entire life 
— “ what I hope for our church is that it may so present 
its message and carry out its mission that it will ulti- 
mately attract just the type of notable men as the one 
of which we speak. And now, since this begins to bor- 
der on a theological discussion, let us have some straw- 
berries and cream. They are my own berries, and the 
cream, Mr. Filmer, is the product of that excellent 
yearling you were kind enough to send me last sum- 
mer.” 

They moved into the study and were presently joined 
by Mrs. Dibbott and Mrs. Worden. 

“ We have seen the yacht,” said the latter enthusi- 
astically, “ and she is lovely, but how do you pro- 
nounce her name ? ” 

The Bishop’s eyes twinkled — “Just now its Z-e-n-o- 
b-i-a, but that’s the name of a heathen queen and I 
don’t believe the Synod would stand for it. Can you 
ladies suggest something more suitable? You know 
what her work will be.” 

Mrs. Dibbott thought hard, and Mrs. Worden’s gray 
eyes grew soft. Admirable women were these, 
staunch and loyal, the helpmates of men through lonely 
years that had passed in St. Marys. But too often 
the men did not realize this till the shadows length- 
ened. 

“She’ll be a messenger, won’t she?” said Mrs. 
Worden. 

“Of hope and comfort, if I can make her so,” he 

85 


THE RAPIDS 


answered gently. “ I can regularly reach places now 
that it was very hard to get at before.” 

There fell a little silence, while, to the rest came 
the picture of this wise man and true, cruising in storm 
and sunshine through the myriad islands of his diocese, 
with his good cheer and his understanding heart and 
his great tenderness for all living beings. 

“ May I make you a flag ? ” said Mrs. Dibbott pres- 
ently. 

“ Splendid, I haven’t one. You might put on my 
crest. It’s an Irish one with a complete menagerie of 
animals.” 

“ And some of the rest of us will provide the linen,” 
added Mrs. Worden, who was a famous housekeeper. 

“ My dear ladies, your sex is really the backbone of 
ours and not the missing rib,” said the bishop who, 
when he was genuinely touched, often relapsed into his 
native humor. “ But what shall we call the boat ? I 
can’t go on missionary voyages with an Indian pilot 
and a Scotch engineer in a slim, black, piratical looking 
vessel that flies the name of a heathen queen. Even my 
gaiters wouldn’t save me from being misunderstood.” 

“ Would the name ‘ Evangeline ’ do ? ” asked a gentle 
voice as Mrs. Manson, who had been listening intently, 
moved a little closer. She breathed the word very 
softly and her large expressive eyes shot an uncertain 
glance at the broad back of her husband who stood just 
out of hearing. 

“ Evangeline ! ” The bishop had a sudden thrill in 
his tones. “ Evangeline she shall be, and may I prove 
worthy of my vessel.” 


86 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


A little later the three ladies went together and rather 
silently down the plank walk that led from the See 
House to the main road. Their eyes were on the taper- 
ing spars of the yacht that floated so gracefully a few 
hundred yards away. 

“ I wonder,” said Mrs. Dibbott pensively, “ if we 
really appreciate him.” 

“ Meaning the Bishop? ” demanded Mrs. Worden. 

“ Yes. He’s a much bigger man than we realize, 
and he certainly gave up a great deal to come here.” 

“ The most eloquent preacher in Canada, isn’t he, but 
after all, could a smaller man do his work? ” 

“ Perhaps, in a sort of way, but, of course, not half 
as well. I think, too, that we have to remember he left 
the places where he met those of his own kind, and he 
must miss that.” 

“ But he loves his work.” 

“ Only some of it,” put in Mrs. Manson. “ I heard 
him say so. He told me he hated begging, and we 
all know he has to raise the money to run the diocese 
as well as spend it.” 

Mrs. Dibbott shook her head. “ A bishop shouldn’t 
have to beg, it’s lowering. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ It would be to some,” said the little woman thought- 
fully, “ but it couldn’t lower our bishop. As for be- 
ing isolated, of course he is, but so are the rest of us, 
and I shouldn’t be surprised if it’s the out of the way 
places that need the best men, and — goodness I here’s 
Mr. Clark.” 

Three pairs of very keen eyes fixed on a neat, rather 
thickset figure that came rapidly toward them. It was 

87 


THE RAPIDS 


but seldom now that Clark was seen in town, and this 
invested him with more suggestiveness than ever. He 
stepped off the sidewalk with a somewhat formal salute 
as they passed. Knowing that he would not pause, 
Mrs. Dibbott turned and looked after him with a long 
satisfying stare. 

“ Not a bit interested in us,” she remarked acidly. 

“ Nor in any woman, I hear,” added Mrs. Worden. 
“ There’s no room for them in his life. I mean in an 
emotional way.” 

“ How perfectly fascinating. I’d love to know 
him.” 

The brisk steps behind them halted at the gate where 
the bishop was saying good-by to his last guest. 

“ I’m late, I’ll not stay,” said Clark apologetically. 

“ That’s all the better for a chat. You’re looking 
well.” 

“ I have to be well, Bishop, for my work, and you ? ” 

“ Perhaps it’s the same in a rather less dramatic 
field.” 

For a while the two walked with the mutual liking 
which able men experience for each other when neither 
is animated by the desire for personal gain. In 
truth, the attraction was understandable. The bishop 
responded easily to his guest’s magnetic presence, and 
perceived in him the focal power that energized each 
one of his successive undertakings, while to Clark came 
the strength and benignity of the bishop’s high and 
blameless spirit. They were doing each other good, 
and each silently acknowledged it. 

“ You are accomplishing great things up at the 

88 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


rapids, Mr. Clark,” said the bishop presently. “ I was 
very much impressed by what I saw last week.” 

Clark nodded contentedly. “ We’re really only at 
the beginning of it, and the country about here has 
been only scratched so far. We’re on the doorstep, so 
to speak.” 

“ Then developments should increase?” 

“ In ten years St. Marys will be the center of great 
and widespread activities. The district can and will 
yield a greater variety of natural products than has 
been imagined.” 

“ You feel this? ” 

“ I know it.” 

The conviction in his voice was so impressive that 
the bishop paused. “Well, Mr. Clark,” he said after 
a moment, “ like others I must thank you for having 
made a remarkable improvement in our physical com- 
fort. Even my friend Fisette down there,” — he 
pointed to the halfbreed’s cabin that lay between the 
See House and the river — “ even my friend Fisette 
has electric light in his house.” 

“Ah! Is that where Fisette lives?” 

“ You know him? ” 

“ He works for me.” 

“ Then he’s like most of my friends in St. Marys. 
The pulp mills are doing well ? ” 

“ Their capacity will shortly be doubled.” 

The bishop nodded and scanned the keen face with 
renewed interest. “ I have heard it stated that the 
measure of a country’s industrial progress depends 
largely on the degree to which it produces steel and 
89 


THE RAPIDS 


iron. Now I’m no student of economics, .but the as- 
sertion seems reasonable. Your countrymen across 
Lake Superior have, I know, enormous deposits, and 
of course there’s not a question as to their industrial 
progress, but so far as I have ascertained there are 
none in this region. I assume that you have con- 
sidered the matter and I would be interested to know 
your opinion.” 

“ I have reason to believe,” answered Clark, star- 
ing fixedly at Fisette’s vine-grown cabin, “ that large 
deposits do exist within a reasonable distance of St. 
Marys. You will understand, of course, that this is 
not an official statement, and I would be obliged if you 
would not repeat it. I offer it,” he added with a glance 
of calm sincerity, “ to reinforce my undertakings in 
your eyes. Your economic contention is perfectly 
sound.” 

“ I’m very glad to hear it, and you need no justi- 
fication and need have no qualms. In fact,” here the 
bishop spoke slowly while his brown eyes looked 
straight into the keen, gray orbs of his visitor, “ you 
came up here and did what you have done because you 
had to. Isn’t that it ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Clark simply, “ I had to.” 

“ Believe me, I quite understand. Now I wonder 
if you will understand when I say how happy I would 
be to see you sometimes at church. It would help me, 
and you too, and, I think, others as well.” 

“ I understand perfectly,” Clark replied gravely and 
in the most friendly tones possible, “ but my entire mind 
and intelligence are intensely preoccupied. You will 
90 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


appreciate too that my imagination plays no small part 
in my work. Every intellectual process and every mo- 
ment are demanded of me.” 

“ What I refer to is neither mental nor imaginative, 
it is spiritual,” said the bishop gently. 

“ I am afraid that I am principally conscious of the 
works, for the present at any rate.” 

The bishop sighed inaudibly, then the visitor felt a 
hand on his arm. “ The wisest of all men once said 
that ‘ by their works ye shall know them.’ What bet- 
ter can I say to you ? ” 

They parted a moment later, and Clark moved 
slowly down the plank walk. He was apparently deep 
in thought. Opposite Fisette’s cabin he halted as 
though to go in, but turned homeward. That night 
he stood long at the blockhouse window, listening to 
the boom of the rapids and staring at the mass of 
buildings of his own creation. They were alive with 
light and throbbing with energy. Below the power 
house the white water raced away from the turbines and 
down the tail race, like a living thing, to lose itself in 
the placid bosom of the river. Still further on rose 
the uneven outlines of still greater structures as yet 
unfinished, and the earth seemed, in the cool air, to be 
baring her ancient bones to his drills and dynamite. 
Still staring, he remembered the bishop’s words and 
a strange thrill crept through him. These were his 
works, and how should he be known? 

That night, too, there stood at another window an- 
other man who could just see the gleam of the rapids 
in the moonlight. Their softened voice came to him in 
9i 


THE RAPIDS 


stillness, and far across the water glinted the trembling 
reflection of electric light at the works. Slowly into 
his brain the dull vibration wove itself like the low 
murmur of invisible multitudes. Whatever might be 
his own effort or labor, this still reached him so often as 
he listened, as though it were a confused and unending 
appeal for help that would not be silenced. It was al- 
ways there, compelling and well nigh immortal, and the 
persistent echo had long since entered into his heart 
where it stirred pitifully day and night. The bishop 
dropped on his knees and prayed that he might be 
made worthy for his work. 

There were two others to whom the voice of the 
rapids came clearly that night as they sat on the edge of 
the judge’s lawn. Belding was very much in love. 
Months ago he perceived that Elsie was designed to be 
some man’s comrade, and for months he had been con- 
stantly aware of an oval face and dark brown eyes. 
He saw them whenever he peered through an instru- 
ment. But the only sign Elsie had given him was the 
spontaneous kinship of youth with youth. 

At the garden party there was little opportunity for 
talk and he had eagerly accepted the judge’s sugges- 
tion to spend the evening with them. Now Elsie was 
beside him at the water’s edge. 

“ I was up at the works again, with father, the other 
day. Aren’t they wonderful ? ” she said, after a long 
pause. 

“ Perhaps — I don’t often think of them that way, 
though.” 

“ What a difference in two years ! ” 

92 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


“ I suppose so.” Belding was tired and he didn’t 
want to talk shop. 

“ I met Mr. Clark again, and he was charming.” 

“ Was he? ” 

She laughed. “ I gathered from you at the garden 
party that he was a woman hater.” 

“ Did I say that?” 

“ Not exactly, but that he didn’t care for women, 
he was too busy.” 

“ He never mentioned one to me, except his mother.” 

“ I can understand that,” said Elsie very thought- 
fully. 

Belding felt a little restless. “ You seem very in- 
terested.” 

“ I am. I never met any one like him. He seems 
to be two men, or several all rolled into one. You ad- 
mire him, don’t you? ” 

“Yes, tremendously, but he scares me a bit some- 
times.” 

“ Why?” 

“ I have wretched moments in which it seems that 
he is riding for a fall. Things are going so fast, too 
fast sometimes — and besides, I’m tired.” 

She glanced at him swiftly, but in the glance he 
caught nothing of what he sought. 

“If you’re tired,” she said slowly, “ what about 
Mr. Clark ? He’s carrying the whole thing, isn’t he, as 
well as creating it? Is that his piano in the block- 
house?” 

The young man nodded. 

“ What does he play ? ” 

93 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Nothing that I remember; he improvises. It rests 
him, I suppose.” 

“ Has he many friends? ” 

“ I don’t know that he wants many.” 

“ Then he sits there alone in the evenings and plays 
to himself, — I wonder if it really is to himself ? Don’t 
you believe that somewhere there must be some one 
he is playing to, and that it’s for some one he’s doing 
all that’s going on ? ” Elsie spoke a little breathlessly 
and her eyes were luminous. “ How old is he ? ” 

“ Perhaps between thirty-five and forty, I never 
asked — one doesn’t ask him that sort of thing. He 
never struck me as being of any particular age.” 

“ But you’re going to follow him always, aren’t 
you, and help to see him through? He’s following 
something too.” 

“ What’s that? ” said Belding a little stiffly. 

“ His star.” The girl’s voice was very soft. “ Per- 
haps he’ll never reach it, but that doesn’t matter, if he 
follows it.” 

“ Mr. Clark would differ with you there.” 

“ Would he, I don’t know. Perhaps I understand 
him better than you do.” 

Belding got up in swift discomfort. “ It looks as 
if you did.” 

Her lips curved into a smile. “ Don’t go yet. 
Doesn’t it seem as though all this were meant to be 
from the beginning, and isn’t Mr. Clark in the grip of 
something bigger than himself?” 

“ It’s pretty big if he is.” 

“ I know, but isn’t he a prophet in the wilderness, 

94 


THE BISHOP’S GARDEN PARTY 


the wilderness of Algoma, and he hasn’t much honor 
except what a few of us give him? ” 

Belding looked at her strangely. This was a new 
Elsie, who seemed wistful — yet not for him. Her 
eyes were cloudy with thought and he had a curious 
sensation that he was at this moment far from her 
imagination. She turned to him. 

“ Take me out in your canoe, now.” 

He felt suddenly and inexpressibly happy. “ Come 
along.” 

She leaned back against the cushions while Belding 
dipped a practiced blade in the unruffled stream. The 
night was clear and the sky studded with innumerable 
stars. 

“ Where to ? ” he said contentedly. 

She waved a slim hand towards the rapids. “ As 
near as you can, then round into the big bay.” 

He put his back into his work and the canoe shot 
forward, reaching presently those long foam-flecked 
swells that mark the foot of the turmoil. In ten min- 
utes they were in the heel of the rapids and as far as 
Belding dared go with so precious a burden. Elsie 
felt the cold spray on her face and her eyes shone with 
delight. After a little she pointed northward and the 
canoe edged into the big bay that stretched below the 
works. 

The bulk of the pulp mill loomed darkly into the 
quiet air, and further up they could hear the rattle of 
machine drills hammering into the great sandstone 
ledges. Passing the pigmy lock of the old Hudson 
Bay Company, they floated a hundred yards from shore 
95 


THE RAPIDS 


and immediately opposite the blockhouse. Here Elsie 
lifted her hand, and Belding, with a queer feeling of re- 
sentment, backed water. 

The upper part of the house was softly lighted 
and the windows were open. Its gabled roof seemed 
diminutive compared to the structures which were 
taking shape close by and, as they looked, there drifted 
out the sound of a piano. Clark himself was invisible, 
but his finger tips were talking to the glistening keys. 
Elsie listened breathlessly. This was the man within 
the man who now sat plunged in profound meditation. 

Presently the music ceased and Clark’s figure ap- 
peared at the window. He was staring at the rapids, 
and it seemed that as he stared he set up some mys- 
terious communication that linked his own force and 
determination with their irresistible sweep. 

On the way back Elsie was very silent and it came 
upon Belding with dull insistency that whatever attrac- 
tion he had hoped to have for the girl had been merged 
in the fact that, for the present at any rate, he was 
nothing more than a means of satisfying her sudden 
and, to him, fantastical interest in the man under whose 
dominant bidding the color of so many lives was being 
modified and blended. 


VIII.— IRON 


A YEAR later a prospector was slowly pushing his 
way through the Wilderness some seventy miles 
northward of St. Marys. It was springtime and the 
air was mild, but, while the ridges were already bare, 
great banks of snow still lay in the deep folds of the 
hills where the sun but touched them at noon hour. 
The endless lace work of naked branches now began to 
be feathered with tender green, and everywhere the 
bush was alive with the voices of wild things whose 
blood was stirred to mating by the soft caresses of the 
southerly wind. Thrusting through a patch of tangled 
undergrowth, the man reached higher ground and, ad- 
vancing to a hillock, stood with his hat off and his 
brown face steaming with sweat. 

He was of middle age, with short, sturdy frame, a 
broad face of pale, copper color, swarthy black brows 
and a small, stringy mustache. His feet were en- 
closed in shoepacks, soggy with water, and he was 
otherwise clad in the nondescript fashion of old bush- 
men. Around his shoulders were strung a compass, 
binoculars and map case, and at his belt dangled a small 
ax and a prospector’s hammer pick. He was torn, 
scratched, and in a general way disheveled, but the 
clear glance of the black eyes and the easy grace of 
his pose proclaimed him fit for action. 

He stood for some time while his keen glance 

97 


THE RAPIDS 


searched the country ahead — a frozen sea in which 
congealed billows of rock thrust up their tumbled heads 
in a gigantic confusion. Here and there were more 
definite ridges that took a general trend, but for the 
most part it was a chaos of rock and timber, slope and 
swamp, the refuse from the construction of a more 
attractive country which had been assembled elsewhere. 

Presently Fisette took out his compass, balanced it 
in the palm of his sinewy hand and glanced at the 
needle. As he glanced, this filament of soft iron be- 
gan to tremble and swing. He stood fascinated. 
Slowly at first, but gradually with more active and 
jerky motions, the thing became possessed. It vibrated 
as though in doubt, then moved off in continued rest- 
lessness. Not by any means could Fisette end these 
vagaries. After a little, a slow light grew in his eyes, 
his strong face broadened into a smile and, snapping 
back the compass lid, he strode down hill. 

A quarter of an hour later he was chipping the 
edges of a ridge of blackish-gray rock from which he 
had stripped great rolls of damp, green moss. The 
rock lay exposed and glistening, its polished surface 
scarred with the scratches of hard stones that once 
lay embedded in the feet of prehistoric glaciers, but 
Fisette, screwing his bushy brows over a tiny magnify- 
ing glass and peering at the sparkling fragments in his 
palm and balancing their weight, cared nothing for 
glaciers. He only knew he had found that which he 
had been seeking for more than a year. 

There is no measuring device for joy, and no foot- 
rule one can lay on emotion, but it is questionable if 
98 


IRON 


to the heart of any man comes greater lightness than 
to that of the one who by stress and endurance in the 
wilderness, upturns the treasure he has so arduously 
sought. These moments are few and rapt and pre- 
cious, and they glowed in the slow brain of the half- 
breed Fisette as nothing else had ever glowed. It 
was true that he stood to do well and earn indepen- 
dence out of this discovery, but he was conscious at 
the instant of a reward greater than ease and comfort 
and money to spend. He had backed himself, single- 
handed, against the wilderness, and he had won. 
Again he unrolled from a strip of caribou skin the 
fragment of ore Clark had given him — the fragment 
he was to match — and laid it amongst the fresh chip- 
pings at his feet. Only by size and shape could he 
distinguish it. 

Now it may be assumed that Fisette forthwith threw 
his tattered hat into the air and gave way to noisy mani- 
festations of joy. He did nothing of the kind, for in 
his hairy breast were combined the practical side of his 
French father and the noiseless secrecy of an Indian 
mother. There was much to be done, and he went 
about it with voiceless determination. First of all he 
blazed a jack pine whose knotted roots grasped nakedly 
at the ridge, and marked it boldly with his name and 
the number of his prospecting license and the date, 
which latter, he remembered contentedly, was the birth- 
day of his youngest child. 

This accomplished, he disappeared in the bush and 
two hours later reappeared bending forward under a 
pack strap whose broad center strained against his 
99 


THE RAPIDS 


swarthy forehead. And in the pack were a small shed 
tent and his camping outfit. Making a tiny, smokeless 
fire of dry wood, he cooked and ate, stopping now and 
again to listen intently. But all he heard was the 
chuckle of a hidden spring and the insolent familiarity 
of a blue jay, which, perched in a branch immediately 
above, eyed the prospector’s frying pan with a bright 
inquiring gaze. 

By noon of the second day Fisette had blazed the 
enclosing boundaries of three claims, along the middle 
of which for three quarters of a mile he had traced the 
ridge of ore, and when corner posts were in, he shoul- 
dered his pack and, stepping quietly to the river where 
his canoe was hidden three miles away, began his 
homeward journey. He paddled easily, squatting in 
the middle like his ancestors, and feeling a new pleasure 
in the steady pressure of his noiseless blade. He did 
not experience any particular sense of triumph, but 
when, six hours afterward, he saw the glint of Lake 
Superior around a bend in the river he laughed softly 
to himself. 


IX.— CONCERNING THE APPREHENSION 
OF CLARK'S DIRECTORS 


M OVE now to Philadelphia, long since linked with 
St. Marys by a private wire, at either end of 
which sat the confidential operators of the Company. 
The seed sown by Clark a few years ago had flourished 
amazingly. Instead of the austerity of Wimperley’s 
office there was now the quiet magnificence of the 
Consolidated Company’s financial headquarters, ten- 
anted by a small battalion of clerks and officials. These 
were the metropolitan evidence of the remote activities 
in St. Marys. 

To thousands of Pennsylvanians this office was a 
focal point of extreme interest. From it emanated 
announcements of work by which they were vitally af- 
fected, for Clark had come to Philadelphia at the 
psychological moment and cast his influence on those 
who were accredited leaders in the community. He 
had said that millions waited investment and he was 
right, for once Wimperley, Stoughton and Riggs had 
satisfied themselves as to the project and announced 
their support, money began to come in, at first in a slow 
trickle, but soon in a steadily increasing flood. 

It was recognized that time was required to bring to 
fruition the various undertakings so rapidly conceived, 
and Clark’s shareholders had in them a certain stolid 
deliberation, aided, perhaps, by a strain of Dutch an- 
cestry. This kept money moving in a steady stream 
IOI 


THE RAPIDS 


and in the desired direction. From Philadelphia the 
attraction spread to outside points. It was noticeable 
that, with the exception of Pennsylvania, other States 
did not evidence any appreciable interest. The thing 
was a Philadelphia enterprise, and to this city from 
neighboring villages came a growing demand for stock. 

Four years before this, St. Marys was practically 
unknown in Philadelphia, but now at thousands of 
breakfast tables the morning papers were hurriedly 
turned over in search of the closing quotation of 
Clark’s various companies. These began to increase 
in number, and there commenced that gigantic pyramid 
in which the various stories were interdependent and 
dovetailed with all the art of the financial expert. 
Daily, it might be said, the interest grew, until it 
seemed that the potent voice of the rapids had leaped 
the intervening leagues and its dull vibrations were 
booming in the ears of thousands. 

Moving in the procession was one whose training 
did not permit of wholesale surrender to the cause. 
Wimperley was a railway man and had, in consequence, 
a keen eye for results. His normal condition of mind 
was one in which he balanced operating costs against 
traffic returns and analyzed the results. And Wim- 
perley was getting anxious. The profits from the pulp 
mill, for there were profits, had gone straight into other 
undertakings, and the god of construction who reigned 
at St. Marys demanded still further offerings. This 
was why Wimperley had persuaded Birch, one of the 
keenest and most cold blooded financial men in the 
city, to come on the board. Birch, he reckoned, would 
102 


APPREHENSION OF CLARK’S DIRECTORS 


be the necessary balance-wheel, and it was safe bet- 
ting that he would not yield to the mesmeric influence 
of the man in St. Marys. Now Stoughton and Riggs 
and Birch had met him in the Consolidated office, and 
through a pale, gray haze of cigar smoke Wimperley 
spoke that which was in his mind. 

“ The thing is going too fast,” he concluded. “ My 
God ! How much money has that man spent ? ” 

Birch fingered a straggling gray beard. He was a 
tall man, lean and silent, with a tight mouth, sallow 
cheeks and cold eyes. It was said he had never been 
caught napping, and his was one of those fortunes 
which are acquired in secrecy. He was neither com- 
panionable nor magnetic but he was obviously shrewd 
and astute and created a sense of confidence which, 
though chilling, was none the less reassuring. Birch, 
like the rest, had met Clark, but now he put the vision 
of those remarkable eyes out of his head. 

“ Seven millions and a half up to last Saturday.” 

Stoughton made a thick little noise in his throat. He 
knew it was something over seven millions, but the 
figures sounded differently as Birch gave them. Then 
Wimperley ’s voice came in. 

“ Had a letter yesterday. Clark wants to build a 
railway.” 

“ Why? ” squeaked Riggs. 

“ To bring down pulp wood from new areas which 
are not on the river. He wants to open up the coun- 
try generally — says it is full of natural resources.” 

“ Is there any dividend in sight ? ” demanded Stough- 
ton bluntly. 


103 


THE RAPIDS 


Followed a little silence and the long thin fingers of 
Birch began an intermittent tap on the polished table. 
Presently Wimperley glanced up and smiled dryly. 
He had not known that Birch understood the Morse 
code. “ Birch has told you,” he said. 

Stoughton and the rest looked puzzled, 

“ We can’t pay a dividend if we let Clark build this 
railway.” 

“ Then why build it? ” 

“ Clark claims it is necessary to secure a dependable 
supply of spruce for the pulp mills, and hard wood for 
the veneer works. He reckons it will cost two million, 
and says the Government will help — but perhaps they 
won’t.” He broke off, rather red in the face. 

“ Do any of you fellows remember Marsham? ” put 
in Birch quietly. 

Stoughton looked up. “ Only too well, what about 
him? ” 

“ Well, you know he’s been gunning for me for 
years since that Alabama scrap in which he got 
knocked out. Now he’s gunning for all of us.” 

“ Why?” demanded Wimperley. 

“ Because I have the present privilege of being as- 
sociated with you. I had it privately from perfectly 
reliable sources. Marsham’s looking for a hole in the 
Consolidated, and if he finds one he’s going to get busy 
and you know what that means. So far we’re all right 
because we’ve got the Dutch farmer behind us and his 
money is coming in, in a good steady trickle. It’s 
our job to keep it trickling till we get out of the woods 
into which our prophet has led us.” 

104 


APPREHENSION OF CLARK’S DIRECTORS 


Wimperley nodded gravely. “ That sounds good to 
me. But Eve got something else in my mind.” 

“ Well/’ snapped Birch, “ spit it out.” 

“ Eve got to go back a bit to a day you’ll all re- 
member, except you, Birch.” 

“ The day of hypnosis? ” suggested Stoughton. 

“ I guess it was, if you like to put it that way. We 
were satisfied with what Clark told us and what we 
afterwards saw for ourselves, and we found him three 
millions, then another and another and so on. Now, 
as it stands and as it goes, I don’t see any end to this 
thing. It’s like throwing money into the rapids at St. 
Marys — a fresh sweep of water comes and carries it 
away. You see it glint for a moment and there’s ap- 
parently no bottom to the river. The trouble with 
Clark is that he is not equipped with brakes. He can’t 
stop. He’s always the roof on one station and, 
at the same time, contracting for another one still fur- 
ther on. We’ve got to do the braking, that’s all.” He 
turned to Riggs, “ How about it? ” 

“ Well,” said the little man out of the corner of his 
mouth. “ It’s our funeral just as much as Clark’s. 
Why didn’t we apply the brakes long ago ? ” 

“ You know as well as I do.” 

“ Em damned if I do.” 

“ It’s just because we’re better business men in Phila- 
delphia than we are when we get to St. Marys,” grunted 
Stoughton reflectively. “ We’re outside the charmed 
circle down here, but when we get up there,” he waved 
his hand, while the end of his cigar glowed like a minia- 
ture volcano, “ we get locoed, the whole bunch of us.” 

105 


THE RAPIDS 


“ And yet,” said Birch reflectively, “ there’s noth- 
ing the matter.” 

Wimperley leaned forward. “ Go on.” 

“ It’s simple enough, we’re not using Clark prop- 
erly.” 

“ Isn’t seven millions proper ? ” boomed Stoughton. 

“ You don’t get me,” Birch spoke in a thin dry voice 
totally devoid of any emphasis. “ The proper use of 
a man like that is the purpose for which nature de- 
signed him. He’s an originator — but not an execu- 
tive. Dividends don’t interest him half as much as the 
foundations of a new mill.” 

Wimperley shook his head. “ That may be all right, 
but from my point of view he has become dangerous. 
He surmounts our resolutions, the ones we make when 
our pulse is normal. I have never seen him fail to 
carry his point. Take the matter of this railway. I 
don’t mind betting that if we go up there to-morrow 
to kill that road we’ll be committed to it in twenty- 
four hours.” 

“ I’ll take that for a thousand.” There was a spot 
of faint color in Birch’s hollow cheeks. 

Wimperley laughed. “I’m on. What about lunch 
and finish this afterwards? ” 

But Stoughton sat tight. “ You’ll go too far. Sup- 
pose that Clark gets on his ear and tells us to run the 
thing in our own way, and that he’ll get out. As I 
see it, he holds the works together and represents the 
works in the mind of every one who knows him.” 

“ Well, what if he does drop out? There’s no liv- 
ing man who can’t be replaced.” 

106 


APPREHENSION OF CLARK’S DIRECTORS 


“ Except one called Robert Fisher Clark. As a first 
consequence our stocks drop on the Philadelphia ex- 
change like a wet sponge. You can imagine the rest — 
you all know enough about the market, and, by the 
way, does any one happen to remember the various 
things we have publicly said about that same indi- 
vidual?” 

This was food for thought. Wimperley, dismissing 
the idea of lunch, sat down. The group became uni- 
versally reflective, and for a little while no one spoke. 
Stoughton threw away his cigar, rested his chin on 
his hand and stared at the model of the pulp mill on 
Wimperley’s desk. Wimperley’s eyes wandered to the 
big map and again he saw Clark’s finger sliding over its 
glazed surface. Riggs twisted his handkerchief with 
a puzzled look in his bright eyes, and Birch leaned back, 
stretching his long legs, while his tremulous lids began 
to flicker and his lips moved inaudibly. To each man 
there seemed to come the rumble of the mills, the wet 
grind of the huge stones against the snowy billets 
of spruce, and behind it all the deep tones of the 
rapids. Presently the voicelessness of Birch found 
speech. 

“ As I said there’s nothing to worry about — yet. 
Two of us might go up next week. I’ll be one, if you 
like — and put the brakes on — but not so that he’ll 
feel them. If we only get out of the coach and take 
the driver’s seat the thing will be all right. Trouble 
is we’ve sat too long inside and wondered where we 
were. Wimperley is right. And don’t forget that 
Clark has something at stake too.” 

107 


THE RAPIDS 


It was all so even and sane that it acted like oil on 
troubled waters. Stoughton jumped up, remarking 
that now he could eat, while Riggs, remembering that 
six per cent, on seven millions of issued bonds was four 
hundred and twenty thousand, stared at Birch and mar- 
veled how he could have managed to put it away in 
the face of such expenditure. Just as he was reaching 
for his hat, the door opened and a telegram was brought 
in. Wimperley took it carelessly. He was too full 
of relief to be interested in anything else and experi- 
enced a gratified glow in that he had spoken what was 
in his mind and been upheld. Then, glancing at the 
telegram, his face changed and he felt his temples red- 
den. The message was from Clark, who now asked 
that serious consideration be given to the building of 
blast furnaces at St. Marys. He stood for a moment 
while the others glanced at him curiously. 

“What about that?” he jerked out, and gave the 
yellow sheet to Birch. 

Birch read it aloud slowly, and, after an impressive 
pause read it again and still more slowly, the pink 
spots on his cheeks becoming brighter, his hard dry 
tones still more cold and mechanical. When he looked 
up Stoughton had turned his back and, with shoulders 
up, was staring out of the window. Riggs was red and 
flustered. After a moment the little man found breath. 

“ He’s crazy, that’s all.” 

“ Well, Wimperley? ” Birch had not moved. 

“ This is the last straw. It’s a case of our getting 
rid of him before he gets rid of us, or the shareholders 
do.” 

108 


APPREHENSION OF CLARK’S DIRECTORS 


Birch turned to the window. “ Well, what about 
it?” 

Stoughton hunched his shoulders still higher. 
“ Fire him,” he said stolidly, then puffed his cheeks 
and breathed on the widow pane. In the fog he wrote 
“ Fire him ” with his forefinger, taking particular care 
to make it legible with neatly formed letters. The next 
moment both fog and words evaporated. It flashed 
into Stoughton’s mind that they had not lasted long. 
He swung round, “ It’s the only thing to do, but I don’t 
want the job. You can have it, Birch.” 

The lean face changed not a whit. “ I take my end 
of it. If I don’t, Marsham will.” 

“ Look here, this isn’t a one man job.” Wimper- 
ley’s voice had barely regained its steadiness. “ This 
message settles, as I take it, our views of Clark. God 
knows we don’t question anything but his suitability 
for his position at the present stage of affairs. He’s 
got to be told the inevitable and we’ve all got to go up. 
There’s no other way out of it. We’ll give him one 
or two of the smaller companies to run and the public 
needn’t know anything about it. I remember the point 
you made, Stoughton. It’s a good one and we’ve got 
to look out for it.” 

But Stoughton did not move. “ I’ll be damned,” 
he said softly, still staring at the roof lines of Phila- 
delphia. “ Blast furnaces ! ” 

“ You will, if you don’t come up with us,” replied 
Birch acidly. 

“ I suppose I will. When do we go ? ” 

“ Will a week from to-day suit? ” 

109 


THE RAPIDS 


They all made it suit. After a contemplative mo- 
ment Riggs asked: 

“ Will you let him know, Wimperley, and just what 
do you propose to say? You’ll remember there have 
been other times when we contemplated putting the 
brakes on, but we all got galvanized and the thing 
didn’t work.” 

“ I’d merely say that we four are coming up — 
that’s all.” 

Stoughton grinned a formidable grin in which there 
was a show of teeth and an outhrust jaw. 

“ That’s enough, he’ll know.” 

They went off together, but rather silently, to lunch. 
On the way to the street Stoughton asserted several 
times aloud, and with complete conviction, that he 
would be damned, while the rest began to experience 
a carefully concealed regret for the victim of their 
mission. At the club they sat aimlessly and played with 
their food, conscious that they were observed and 
known by all as the insiders in one of Philadelphia’s 
largest investments. Then, too, they learned that that 
morning the stock of the Consolidated companies had 
leaped forward in one of those unexpected boosts for 
which it was noted. Wimperley and the rest of them 
had never gambled in it, but time and time again it 
moved as though animated by the spread of secret and 
definite information. Just as they were about to rise 
Birch leaned forward and began to arrange pepper pots 
and salt cellars in a semi-symmetrical design. 

“ This,” he said, “ is all right and that, and that. 
These are out of the question. You get me? ” 
no 


APPREHENSION OF CLARK’S DIRECTORS 


The others nodded. 

“ No blast furnaces/’ he went on almost inaudibly. 
“No railway — no further capital expenditure — and 
then we reach the melon of dividend,” here he touched 
his untasted cantaloupe. 

Now, just at this moment, Wimperley nodded ener- 
getically and laughed outright, whereupon a man whose 
name was Marsham, who sat at an adjoining table, 
turned — for Wimperley did not often laugh — and 
saw Birch’s long finger resting on the melon, and, since 
Marsham was, without the knowledge of the others, one 
of the largest operators in Consolidated stock, that 
stock took a further jump just half an hour later, and 
all through Pennsylvania there were farmers, me- 
chanics, country doctors and storekeepers who read the 
news and rejoiced exceedingly thereat. 

The others went their way, and Wimperley walked 
back to his office immersed in profound contemplation. 
Feelings of personal injury were mixed with those of 
apprehension. How would the affair proceed after 
Clark had taken with him his unrivaled and intimate 
knowledge of the works; for, and in spite of all the 
dictates of prudence, it seemed impossible to think of 
the vast enterprise at St. Marys without its central 
pivot 


X.— CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY 


ND all this time the chief constable of St. Marys 



was speculating in property with steadily increas- 
ing success. So crafty was he that few people in the 
town knew it. When the fourth year of Clark’s re- 
gime was completed, Manson had made profits that 
astonished him. His purchases covered both farm and 
town lands, and amongst the latter was a mortgage 
on the vine clad cottage of Fisette. But not a man 
in his circle would have guessed that what prompted 
the acquisition of the Fisette mortgage was Manson’s 
remembrance of a friendly joke about a Unitarian 
wolf; a joke which still lived and set up a minute but 
unceasing irritation. Now, at any time, Manson might 
be in a position to teach the bishop a lesson. 

It fell on a day that he was at the head of the old 
portage leading round the rapids. Here he had re- 
cently acquired an option on a considerable acreage, cal- 
culating that before long a new town would spring 
up in the shadow of the works, and, just as he pushed 
through the underbrush and came out on the gravel 
beach, he caught the flash of a paddle a mile away. He 
was hot and breathless and, lighting his big pipe, sat 
in the shade, his ruminative eye on the fast approach- 
ing canoe. Twenty minutes later it touched the shore, 
and Fisette, leaning forward on the thwarts, surveyed 
him with black and lustrous eyes. 

Manson nodded. He did not speak at once. It 


1 12 


CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY 


was palpable that Fisette had been prospecting, and 
always in the north country the returning prospector 
brings with him a peculiar fascination. He is the 
herald of the hitherto unknown. It was also under- 
stood that Fisette was working for Clark. 

The halfbreed brought the side of his canoe delicately 
against the sand and, stepping lightly out, began to 
unload, greeting Manson with a low-voiced “ Good 
morning.’’ Ax, paddles, dunnage bag, shed tent, 
these he laid neatly and, last of all, a small sack of sam- 
ples, the weight of which, however he disguised it, 
swelled the veins in his temples. He was stooping to 
swing this on his shoulders when Manson spoke. 

“ Sit down a minute and have a smoke.” 

Fisette did not want to sit down. There was that 
in the sack and in his brain which he greatly desired 
to evacuate in the proper place and at the earliest pos- 
sible moment. But a little reflection demonstrated 
that undue haste would be suspicious. Inwardly dis- 
turbed at the sight and manner of Manson, he laid the 
sack gently down. There came the slightest creak of 
metallic fragments. 

“ Had a good trip ? ” hazarded the big man care- 
lessly. 

“ Pretty fair.” 

“ Pretty rough country up there? ” Manson waved 
his arm northwest. 

Fisette grunted. “ About the same over there.” 
He glanced into the northeast. 

“ Been rooting about for over a year now, haven’t 
you? ” 


THE RAPIDS 


The halfbreed grinned. “ Since I was so high.” 
He indicated a stature of two feet. 

“ Come far this time? ” 

There was a little pause while Fisette sheared thin 
shavings of tobacco from a dog-eared plug. He rolled 
them into a ball between his tawny palms, thoughtfully 
unpicked the ball, re-rolled it more loosely, abstracted 
a match from the inside band of his tattered hat and 
began to suck wetly at a gurgling pipe. “ What’s 
that? ” he said presently. 

“ I asked you did you come far? ” 

“ Guess not so far as it seemed. Pretty bad bush.” 

Manson hesitated, then, in a flash, saw through the 
breed’s assumption of indifference. Clark had been 
looking for iron for more than a year. All St. Marys 
knew that. Now, glancing covertly at the angular pro- 
jectings of the bulging sack, the constable jumped to 
his conclusion. Fisette had found it and was on his 
way to report and prove the discovery. 

“ I often wonder,” he remarked casually, “ what 
keeps you fellows going. I never met a prospector yet 
who gave in that he was licked, and mighty few of 
them found anything. They always claim they would 
have had it if they could have stayed out a bit longer. 
Take iron, for instance. Fellows have gone out after 
iron for years right from here and they all thought 
they had it, but they didn’t. There was Joe Lalonde 
and Pete Nanoosh and the rest of them. Same story 
over again. There’s no iron here anyway. The coun- 
try rock is wrong — a mining engineer told me that.” 

Fisette did not move nor did his expression change. 
1 14 


CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY 


His insides seemed on fire. He would have given 
much to be on his way to Clark’s office, but something 
in his Indian blood whispered warningly. Moments 
passed. Presently he got up a little stiffly. 

“ I guess I’ll go now.” 

Manson yawned. “ All right, I’m going that way 
myself.” 

Sudden irresolution appeared on the brown face. 
“ Oh, well, I guess there’s no hurry.” He sat down 
and took out his last match. 

The big man chuckled. “ Look here, Fisette, I sup- 
pose you know I’ve been buying property around 
town ? ” 

“ So?” 

“ Yes, and the other day I bought a thousand-dol- 
lar mortgage. It’s the one on your land. I guess you 
remember it ? ” 

A sense of uncertainty fell over the half-breed. He 
knew that he owed a thousand dollars and had owed 
it for years. Every six months he paid thirty dollars 
to a lawyer and forgot all about it for the next six. 
To his mind the document with the seals, beside one of 
which he had traced a painful signature, was a for- 
bidding thing, typical of the authority of pale faces 
over brown. Then, quite suddenly, he remembered 
that next year he would have to pay off the whole 
thousand, and, moreover, pay it to Manson. 

“ Is that so ? I guess you’re quite a rich man ? ” 

Manson smiled grimly. “ No, not a rich man, 
but — ” he paused, felt very deliberately in his coat and, 
taking out a fat pocketbook, slowly extracted a bill. 

H5 


THE RAPIDS 


It was for one hundred dollars. “ I’ll bet you this 
that there is no iron within seventy-five miles of St. 
Marys.” He smoothed the bill on his broad knee. 

The half breed gulped. Only once before had he 
seen so much money in one note, and that was after 
he had signed the mortgage. Clark gave him fifty 
dollars a month and his grub, and had promised more 
if he succeeded. He had found iron ore. It was good 
enough to win the bet, but was it good enough for 
Clark? and if it was not good enough for Clark the 
mortgage would have to be met out of nothing. 

“ Well? ” came Manson’s deep voice. 

Fine beads of sweat appeared on the dusky fore- 
head. A sinewy hand crept toward the sack, but just 
as he touched it there arose within him something 
very old and vibrant and compelling. Slowly he 
yielded to it. He saw Clark’s gray eyes and heard his 
magnetic voice. He distinguished his own voice given 
in promise. Clark had always encouraged him, no 
matter how often he returned empty handed, and now, 
looking broodingly at Manson, the half breed perceived 
the type that for centuries had defrauded his ancestors 
with poor bargains and glittering worthlessness. All 
that was good in Fisette, all the savage honor of that 
vanishing race whose blood flowed in his veins, all the 
unquestioning fidelity of his half naked forebears, rose 
in violent protest. He might be sold out, but not by 
any means would he sell out. 

“ Go to hell,” he said thickly. 

Manson laughed awkwardly, slid the bill back into 
the fat pocketbook, and heaved up his great bulk. 

116 


CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY 


“ Come on, I haven’t got a hundred dollars to throw 
away. I suppose you thought I was in earnest/ ’ 

Fisette shook his head. Just at that moment he was 
harboring no suppositions, but had determined to go 
home without stopping at the works. He swung the 
sack over his shoulder. 

“ Go ahead.” 

Manson drew a long breath and stepped into the nar- 
row trail. Behind him came the half breed, the neck 
of the sack drawn tight and its sharp contents drilling 
into his back. He was carrying two hundred pounds 
of freshly broken ore. He said nothing, but kept his 
black eyes fixed on the figure just in front of him. A 
little further on he stumbled over a root, recovered 
himself with a violent effort, and at that moment heard 
with dismay a ripping sound close behind his ear. In 
the next instant the load spilled on the soft earth. 

Manson, twenty feet away, turned at the sound and 
stood staring until, his face lighting with a triumphant 
smile, he stepped back. He had recognized ore, and 
it looked like iron ore. Forgetting about Fisette, he 
moved nearer, his large dark eyes shining with ex- 
citement, and just then came a blinding slap. Fisette 
had swung the empty sack hard against his face. 

“ You don’t come here. Stand still.” The half- 
breed was crouching beside the ore like a bear on its 
hind legs. 

“ Won’t I ? ” The constable smarted with pain 
and charged with sudden passion. He came on, lean- 
ing a little forward, his great knotted hands twitching, 
his shoulders curved in a slow segment of power, 
ii 7 


THE RAPIDS 


When he was within six feet, Fisette screamed like a 
cat and darted at his throat. 

They fought silently with bare hands. Manson, 
heavier than the breed by £fty pounds, was reputed 
one of the strongest men in the district, but he was 
matched with an adversary who had drawn into him- 
self the endurance of the wilderness and the quick 
resiliency of the young spruce tree. Were it only a 
contest of sheer force, Manson had won outright. 
Now, as his veins swelled and his arms stiffened 
around Fisette’s pliant body, the latter seemed to con- 
vert itself into a mass of steel springs that somehow 
evaded compression. With feet sinking in the 
soft soil, crashing through the under-growth with 
no words but only the heart breaking gasp of 
supreme effort, they fought oi}. Once Manson 
thought he had conquered as his hands, closing 
behind the breed’s back, locked in a deadly grip, 
with great muscles contracted, but just as it seemed 
the breed’s ribs must crack there came an eel-like wrig- 
gle. The constable’s arms were empty and again he 
felt the lean brown fingers at his bull-like neck. Once 
mo:e he strove for that crushing clasp and, as Fisette 
darted in, opened his arms wide, took the punishment 
of a savage blow in the face, and closing his embrace, 
enwrapped his enemy in a suffocating hug. It was to 
the death, for a brown thumb was digging into his 
thorax and he felt sick and giddy. 

Seconds passed. The violent expansion of Fisette’s 
chest worked palpitating beneath the great arms, and, 
just ere endurance reached its limit and the trees began 
118 


CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY 


to swim before Manson’s eyes, his little finger touched 
the haft of the sheath knife that hung at Fisette’s back. 
The touch ran through Fisette’s laboring frame like 
fire, for he had reached the point where the world 
seemed dipped in blood. Slowly Manson pushed down 
his hand, never relaxing his titanic embrace. But the 
instant his fingers closed on the knife the half breed’s 
back curved like a mighty bow, the thick fingers 
creaked, cracked and yielded, the deadly grip was burst 
asunder, and Manson, sick and staggering, saw Fisette 
free and crouching in front of him, the knife in his 
hand and murder in his eyes. A moment later he 
looked^ up. Fisette was sitting on his chest, and run- 
ning his thumb along the razor edge of the blade. 
There was a little blood at the corner of his mouth and 
his cheek was scratched. Otherwise he was undis- 
turbed. 

“ Well? ” he grunted presently, staring through half- 
closed lids. 

Manson was pumping air into a laboring breast. 
“ I’m licked,” he panted after a while. 

“ Say that again.” The breed’s eyes opened wider. 

Manson said it while his soul revolted within him, 
but he would get Fisette later on. Then there gleamed 
in the breed’s dark eyes a flicker of Indian fury, and 
Manson breathed an inarticulate prayer as the knife ap- 
proached his throat, until as though from a great dis- 
tance he heard a voice. 

“ You not going to tell any one I find iron. You 
swear that or I kill you here.” 

The constable’s brain began to rock giddily. Fisette 
1 19 


THE RAPIDS 


in his present condition would not hesitate to kill. He 
knew that. “ I swear it,” he panted unsteadily, “ on 
my honor.” 

Fisette bared his white teeth. “ Your honor no 
good. You swear by God and the Mother of God.” 

Manson repeated it, his breath coming more steadily. 
He had been near death, but as he stared at his con- 
queror he felt a contemptuous pity for him. Fisette 
had moved away and was fumbling in his pockets. 
Presently he looked up. “ You got a match? ” 

Manson searched, while his relaxing muscles trem- 
bled like quicksilver. He found a match and held it 
out. 

“ Now go to hell ! ” said the half-breed calmly, and 
recommenced the ritual of smoke. 


XI.— CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSA- 
TION, ALSO HIS DIRECTORS 


T HE Japanese cook pottered softly about in the 
square stone basement of the blockhouse, while, 
up above, his master sat at a table with his eyes fixed 
on a small mountain of blackish-gray rock. He had 
given orders to admit none. Fingering the pointed 
fragments he experienced more emotion than ever be- 
fore in his kaleidoscopic life. He sat in profound con- 
templation of that which prehistoric and elemental fires 
had laid down for his use. There was in his mind no 
question of strangeness that it should be himself who 
had decided that the thing was there and must be un- 
earthed. It was the turning of another page in the 
book of his own history, the beginning of that chapter 
which would be the most fascinating of all. 

Methodically he searched his retentive brain for data 
about iron ore. It existed in Pennsylvania and Ala- 
bama and New York, and, nearer still, there was the 
great field of Northern Michigan. But in Canada there 
were only the distant mines of Nova Scotia. He un- 
rolled a great geological map and pored over it, finding 
here, as always, the greatest fascination. Within two 
miles of St. Marys there was an inexhaustible supply 
of limestone. He stared at the map with a queer but 
quite inflexible consciousness that this moment was the 
one he had awaited for years and his faith had not be- 
trayed him. He got up with sudden restlessness and 
121 


THE RAPIDS 


stood at the window. The rapids sounded clearly, but 
his mind was not on them. Looking to the west he saw 
the sky stabbed with the red streaks of flame from con- 
verters that were yet to be, and ranks of black steel 
stacks and the rounded shoulders of great furnaces 
silhouetted against the horizon. He heard the rumble 
of a mill that rolled out steel rails and, over it all, per- 
ceived a canopy of smoke that drifted far out on the 
clear, cold waters of the lake. He remembered with a 
smile that his directors would shortly arrive, and 
worked out for their visit a program totally unlike 
that they had mapped out for themselves. Last of all 
he went to the piano and played to himself. At- any 
rate, he reflected, he would be known as the man who 
created the iron and steel industry in the district of 
Algoma. And that was satisfying to Clark. 

Still feeling strangely restless, he moved again to the 
window, and just then Elsie and Belding walked slowly 
past the blockhouse toward the tiny Hudson Bay lock. 
Involuntarily he tapped on the pane. They both looked 
up and he beckoned. When they mounted to the living 
room, he met them with a smile. 

Elsie glanced about with intense interest. She had 
been there once before, but with a group of visitors. 
This occasion seemed more intimate. She surveyed 
Clark a little breathlessly and with an overwhelming 
sensation that here was the nerve center of this whole 
gigantic enterprise. Belding felt a shade awkward as 
he caught the glance of the gray eyes. 

“ Sit down and have some coffee.” Clark clapped 
his hands softly and the Japanese cook emerged from 
122 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


below. Presently their host began to talk with a cer- 
tain comfortable ease that gave the girl a new glimpse 
of what the man might really be. 

“ The directors are coming up this week — that 
means more work for you, Belding.” 

The engineer nodded. Then the other man went on 
with the fluent confidence of one who knows the world. 
Persia, India, Russia, — he had been everywhere. 

“ But what brought you here, Mr. Clark ? ” put in 
the girl presently. Her eyes were very bright. 

He turned to her: “ What would you say? ” 

“ Was it destiny ?” she answered slowly. 

“ Yes,” he replied with sudden gravity and a strange 
look at her bright eyes, “ I think it was destiny.” 

Her heart beat more rapidly, and from Clark her 
glance moved to Belding who sat a little awkwardly. 
There was not more than fifteen years between them 
but Clark’s face had that peculiarly ageless appearance 
which characterizes some men and lends them addi- 
tional interest. 

“ And now you’ll stay ? ” added Elsie. 

“ Don’t you think there’s enough to keep me? ” 

Belding roused himself with a chuckle but Clark went 
on thoughtfully. 

“ Do you see much change in St. Marys in the last 
few years? ” 

“ Before you came,” she said slowly, “ it was just — 
just Arcadia.” 

“ Are you sorry to say good-by to Arcadia? ” 

She shook her head, smiling. “Not a bit; I am 
glad it’s over, but I remember father often talking 
123 


THE RAPIDS 


about the old days long before any of us were here. 
First there were just the Indians, and then the Jesuit 
priests. They used to paddle up the Ottawa River to 
Lake Nipissing and then down the French River to 
the Georgian Bay, and so up Lake Huron round the 
rapids and on into Lake Superior. After them came 
the traders and then the Hudson Bay Company, but/' 
she concluded a little apologetically, “ you know all 
about that.” 

“ Yes, I know, and now what do the people of St. 
Marys think about the works? Eh, Belding, what do 
you say? ” 

“ They don’t think very much, sir — they’ve got into 
the way of taking them for granted.” 

Clark laughed. “ I think I know that too. But 
you don’t take me for granted?” Here he glanced 
provocatively at Elsie. 

The girl recovered herself with difficulty. She was 
only twenty-one, but beside this wizard it struck her 
that Belding looked immature. Clark had seized on 
her imagination. He was the dreamer and the prophet 
and as well a great builder under whose hands marvel- 
ous things took shape. Now she was filled with a sud- 
den and delightful confusion, and Belding, watching 
her, remembered the night they had floated opposite the 
blockhouse while Clark’s music drifted across the un- 
ruffled water. He felt good for his own job, but very 
helpless against the mesmeric fascination that the 
older man might exert if he would. And behind all 
this moved his intense loyalty and great admiration 
for his chief. 


124 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


“ Then St. Marys has produced all you hoped for, 
Mr. Clark ?” said Elsie. 

“ I not only hoped but believed and worked/’ The 
answer was vibrant and steady. “ Hope doesn’t do 
very much nowadays without belief and work.” 
He glanced at the piano. “ Won’t you play some- 
thing?” 

She blushed and shook her head. “ No, please do 
yourself.” 

“ I don’t play in public and I never had a lesson in 
my life.” 

“ But this isn’t public,” she countered ; “ I think it’s 
— well — rather private.” 

He laughed, went to the piano and his fingers began 
to explore the keys. The others sat motionless. 
Elsie’s eyes were fixed, riot on Clark but on Belding, 
and in them was an unanswered question. The music 
was not anything she knew but the chords were com- 
pelling and she perceived in them that which this 
strange personality could not or did not put into 
words — his hopes, his courage, his inflexible will and 
the deep note of his power. Suddenly she recognized 
in him a lonely man. Her heart went out and her 
eyes filled with tears. Presently he looked over his 
shoulder. 

“ The gods are good to me to-day.” 

“ Yes? ” Her voice was very uncertain. 

“ I’ve found something for which I’ve been looking 
for years past.” 

Belding’s brows furrowed. There was that in 
Clark’s manner which baffled him. Elsie seemed more 

125 


THE RAPIDS 


than ever dainty and desirable in this unusual setting. 
Had Clark seen this too ? 

“ I’m so glad.” The girl’s eyes were very soft. 

The two went home rather silently. Elsie seemed to 
be in a dream, and Belding had no words for that which 
now worked poisonously in his brain, but just so often 
as he yielded to the sharp pang of jealousy just so often 
did his faith in his chief rise in protest. 

The engineer had seen Clark in many moods and 
under many circumstances. There were times when 
only the driving force of the man had pulled things 
through, and he was transformed into an agency that 
worked its invincible will. There was another thing. 
So far as Belding knew, Clark had no links, sentimental 
or otherwise, with the rest of the world. No whisper 
had come from outside regarding his past, and it was 
only when he himself talked that any light was thrown 
upon his former years. He seemed, in consequence, to 
be enviably free and ready for anything. Unfettered 
by tradition or association, he was a pendulum, balanced 
to swing potently in either direction. And what dark- 
ened Belding’s horizon was the thought that Clark, at 
any moment, might swing toward Elsie Worden. 

Two miles away, Fisette was at home with his chil- 
dren. He was tired but in no way worn out, and in 
his pocket was one single piece of ore kept as a sou- 
venir. Clark’s check lay safely deposited in the bank 
and the half breed’s teeth gleamed when he thought of 
the mortgage. It was only a thousand dollars. 
Therese, four years and three days old, was on his 
knee. They were all very happy, though only Fisette 
126 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


knew exactly why. With eyes half closed, he con- 
tentedly examined the cracks in the big iron box stove 
and, since the night was cool, stuffed in more wood. It 
was in the back of his head that he had done what so 
many men had failed to do, and soon, when Monsieur 
Clark gave the word, he would be known as the man 
who had found iron in Algoma. 

At the big jail, halfway between Fisette and Clark, 
Manson sat at his desk in his little square office. He 
was very sore and very stiff, and however savage he 
might feel about his defeat he could not but admire 
the fierce loyalty of the half breed. It was what he 
would have liked one of his own men to do. Now, 
however he might ache, he had a glow in every strained 
joint. There was iron in Algoma and not far from 
St. Marys. 

Deliberately he shut away all outside thoughts and 
put himself to this, perceiving what iron would mean 
to Clark, this new factor that might upset every pes- 
simistic opinion which he himself had voiced. He sat 
biting at his big black mustache, till suddenly his 
imagination leaped clear of St. Marys and took flight 
to Philadelphia. What would the discovery of iron 
mean there? Instantly he saw a swift rise in Con- 
solidated stock and neither Manson nor any man in 
St. Marys owned a share of that stock. 

In two days he was on the train for Toronto, and, 
in three, was the owner, on margin, of two hundred 
thousand dollars’ worth of Consolidated shares. The 
broker through whom he dealt looked curiously at this 
new customer, the only man from St. Marys who had 
127 


THE RAPIDS 


evidenced any financial interest in Clark’s enterprise, 
and, concluding that there was more in the transaction 
than met the eye, bought forthwith for himself. Then 
the two shook hands very cheerfully, the broker promis- 
ing to watch Consolidated like a hawk, while Manson 
bulged with satisfaction. He would be known as the 
only man in St. Marys who had made a fortune out of 
Clark’s undertakings and that was satisfying to Man- 
son. 

On the journey back he sat for hours staring out of 
the windows. He had shaken free from the drowsi- 
ness of a former existence. His eyes were open to the 
ease with which fortunes are made by those who do not 
hesitate but seize the opportunity. He thought rather 
compassionately of Worden, Dibbott and the rest, good 
natured but thick headed. What a surprise it would 
be for them. But not once did Manson imagine that 
he was trading peace for anxiety, and the even tenor of 
his former ways for the hectic restlessness of the 
speculator. 

As he boarded the train he noticed that Clark’s pri- 
vate car was at the end, and inside saw Riggs, Wim- 
perley and the rest. They were talking very earnestly, 
oblivious to anything that went on outside. Manson, 
watching them from under the brim of his hat, felt a 
surge of satisfaction. He guessed the momentous 
news which brought them, and, late that night, as the 
train plunged through the wilderness, lay awake in 
his berth thinking of many things, while the occupants 
of the private car talked till they were weary and 
leaden-eyed of that which they must do at St. Marys. 
128 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


They were caught up, all of them, in something greater 
than they. Forces had been set in motion by the amaz- 
ing brain of Clark which they might modulate, but 
could not, in any way, entirely control. The moving 
finger was writing, and they could, like him, only 
follow its mysterious command. 

The private car swung along over the clicking rail 
joints and the directors glanced without interest at the 
country they traversed. The latter part of their jour- 
ney was through a wilderness, wild and unpromising. 
At Sudbury they saw evidence of what science and 
energy could do in what was not long ago unbroken 
forest, and what wealth lay beneath the tangled roots 
of spruce and tamarac, but the scene did not impress 
them. It was a single undertaking with a single object 
and vitally different from their own ramified efforts, 
and the desolation of the country in which it flourished 
only accentuated their own misgivings. They were 
tired before the train drew in to St. Marys and decided 
to discuss nothing that evening. At the works station 
Clark met them. He was cheerful and debonair. 

“ Hullo, Wimperley, glad to see you. Had a good 
trip? You and Stoughton are coming to the block- 
house with me. The others are at the hotel. Sorry 
I can’t put you all up.” 

Birch put down his bag and held out a clammy 
hand. “ What about it?” He shot a quick glance 
at Wimperley. 

The president of the Consolidated shook his head. 
“ No, no, we’re not going to put you out, and besides 
I can’t trust these fellows alone. We’ll all go to the 
129 


THE RAPIDS 


hotel. See you first thing in the morning. Matter of 
fact, Birch talked business all the time and we’re dog 
tired.” 

Clark’s lips pressed a shade tighter, then his eyes 
twinkled. Riggs, observing him closely, wondered 
whether he had interpreted the expression which all 
four were stolidly endeavoring to mask. But so cheer- 
ful was he and so apparently unconcerned with any- 
thing but their comfort, that Riggs decided a difficult 
moment had been safely passed. Later at the hotel he 
asked the others. 

“ Knew,” said Birch acidly, “ of course he knew. 
The very fact that we hung together told him the whole 
thing. However, it might just as well begin that 
way.” 

Wimperley laughed, a foolish little laugh that drew 
the older man’s puzzled glance. “ There’s something 
ridiculous about all this,” he tittered suddenly. 
“ We’re like a flock of sheep afraid of a dog. We 
need a ram. You’d better be the ram, Stoughton, 
you’re the bulkiest.” 

Stoughton grinned, but there was no humor in it. 
“ It’s going to take a composite ram. We’ve got to 
put down our heads and bunt together. Riggs, 
you can snap at his heels and distract him. Good 
night.” 

They met at the works after breakfast, and Clark, in 
a flood of confidence, announced the program. 

“ I want this to be a real visit,” he said cheerfully ; 
“ it’s some time since you were all here together and 
there’s a good deal to see. When you get tired let 
130 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


me know. I’ve not forgotten the time I nearly froze 
Riggs to death.” 

As he turned to lead the way, Wimperley sent a 
swift signal to his companions. Clark was to have his 
head for the time being. Birch nodded approvingly. 
This was one method of finding out a good deal he 
wanted to know. 

“ Water lots,” said Clark, waving a hand toward the 
bay that cut in below the rapids. On one side of it 
spread the works and on the other the town of St. 
Marys. “ Channel dredged through, and docks, you 
see, are commenced.” 

“ Why docks? ” asked Stoughton patiently. 

“ We’ll be shipping our own products in our own 
vessels before very long, I hope,” came back the clear 
voice. “ Save a lot that way, — I’ll show you the 
figures. That’s one thing I want to talk about later. 
Come on into the mill. Extensions are about com- 
pleted.” 

They went through the great building whose floor 
seemed to palpitate delicately with hidden forces, 
and began to feel the slow fascination. They saw 
dripping logs snatched from the water by mechanical 
fingers that cut them to length and stripped the brown 
bark till the soft white wood lay round, naked and 
shining. They saw the wood ground implacably by 
giant stones and emerge from a milky bath in a thick 
wet sheet that slid on a hot drum and coiled itself in 
massive rolls. Power, controlled and manipulated, 
was the universal servant. The whole thing was punc- 
tuated by keen remarks from Clark, who shot out 

131 


THE RAPIDS 


answers to every imaginable question with extraor- 
dinary facility. They walked up the swiftly flowing 
head race while the general manager pointed out its 
proposed expansion, and explained the pressing need 
for diverting more water from the rapids. As they 
progressed it seemed there was always more to dis- 
cover. They inspected great rafts of logs, fresh from 
the waters of Lake Superior, then came to timber mills 
and machine shops. And with all Clark was supremely 
familiar. In the middle of it Riggs volunteered that 
he was tired, so they trailed back to the private office 
in the administration building, where Clark unrolled 
maps and pointed out colored areas of pulp wood which 
were tributary to the mills, and had been compiled from 
the reports of his explorers. 

Suddenly Birch put out a long forefinger. “ What's 
that? ” 

“ That," said Clark cheerfully, “ is a railway." 

Birch looked puzzled. “ I didn’t know a road ran 
north from here." 

“ It doesn’t — yet — but it’s something we’ll have 
to consider very soon to bring in pulp wood." 

“ Oh ! ’’ Wimperley’s voice was a trifle indignant. 

“ It’s another matter to discuss when you feel like 
it," went on Clark imperturbably. “ The road won’t 
cost us anything." 

“ Won’t it? Then it will be the first thing we have 
touched of its kind." Wimperley tried to speak 
lightly. 

“ The Federal Government bonus will pay for one- 
third, the provincial bonus for another, which leaves 

13 2 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


us about seven hundred thousand to take care of. 
There should be no difficulty in getting that out of the 
sale of lands we will develop. However,” he added 
evenly, “ we needn’t worry about it just now. And, by 
the way, I had an inquiry yesterday for forty thousand 
horse power. Of course we haven’t got it to spare, 
at least not at the moment. Now will you excuse me 
for just a moment? ” 

He stepped into the general office and shut the door 
softly behind him. Wimperley glanced inquiringly at 
Stoughton. 

“ You haven’t done much ramming this morning! ” 

“ No, I’m not just in the mood. How about you? ” 
Stoughton turned to Birch. 

The latter did not reply. His cold eyes were taking 
in the severe fittings of the private office, whose walls 
were covered with maps and blue prints. The truth 
was that the spell of Clark’s extraordinary intelligence 
was beginning to fall over them once more. It was 
so obvious that he was the center of the whole affair, 
and from him there seemed to spread out into the 
wilderness long filaments over which there trickled an 
unending stream of information. 

“ I didn’t hear ‘ blast furnaces ’ mentioned either,” 
piped Riggs. 

“ Cut it out for the present. The time hasn’t come, 
but it will.” Stoughton got up and began to walk up 
and down. “ We’ve got to hear all he has to say. 
That’s the wise thing. Let him talk himself out. He 
can’t talk for ever.” 

Riggs shook his head. “ Can’t he ? ” 

133 


THE RAPIDS 


“ No, nor any man, and be continuously to the 
point; and if you get a bit shaky and converted just 
think of dividends on seven millions. That’s what we 
came here for. I don’t care how much bluffing it costs 
or how many days it takes. We’re here now and the 
only thing to do is to wait till Clark’s well runs dry and 
then give our ultimatum. But up to that time we must 
do whatever he wants us to do. It’s going to hurt him 

— that’s unavoidable — it will hurt us a lot more if we 
don’t carry our job through.” All of which was a long 
speech for Stoughton, so he sat down and was looking 
defiantly truculent when Clark came in smiling. 

“ You fellows have had enough for to-day so I’ve 
arranged a fishing trip for this afternoon. It’s a good 
river, only six miles out, and I own it. It’s an easy 
drive. You leave right after lunch and won’t see me 
again till to-morrow. Rods and things are ready, and 
there’s a French halfbreed at the camp to cook for you. 
‘What do you say? ” 

The suggestion came like sudden balm in Gilead. 
Stoughton’s face cleared. “ What’s your biggest fish 

— trout, aren’t they? ” 

“ Well,” said Clark slowly, “ I’ve never had time 
to fish myself, but people who come to see me like a 
day off. Four pounds and a half is the record so 
far.” 

It was a magic touch. Riggs and Wimperley were, 
like Stoughton, keen fishermen, and while Birch fished 
for only one prize, all felt alike that here was a surcease 
after a trying morning. They could pull themselves 
together. 


134 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


With this reflection moving in his brain, Stoughton 
felt a stab of compunction. 

" I wish you could come, old man,” he jerked out 
to Clark. 

“ Thanks,” said Clark with a curious light in his 
gray eyes, “ but I think I’d better not.” 

Five hours later Wimperley sat under a spruce tree 
and gloated over his catch. Close by were the rest, 
each arranging a row of speckled beauties on the cool 
green moss. They had caught some forty trout, the 
biggest being a trifle over the record, and this was 
Wimperley’s fish. He leaned back, feeling a long for- 
gotten youth trickle into his veins. In front of him the 
stream dodged round great boulders and vanished into 
the woods, flecked with foam from the falls whose wash 
came tremulously through the wilderness. The sky 
overhead was translucent with the half light of sunset 
and he felt a delicious languor stealing over him. For 
three hours Stoughton, Riggs and he had fished to their 
hearts’ content, while Birch climbed a ridge and specu- 
lated what such a forbidding country might reasonably 
be expected to bring forth. Close by the stream, 
Fisette bent beside a small fire from which came odors 
of fried bacon and fish that aroused in the Philadel- 
phians a fierce and gnawing hunger. Presently they 
sat on a mattress of cedar and ate one of those suppers 
the memory of which passes not with the years. It 
was Riggs who spoke first, lying back on the boughs, 
his head on his arm, a new glow in his pale cheeks. 
He looked younger and rounder than he did six hours 
previously, and, stretching luxuriously, he experienced 
T 35 


THE RAPIDS 


the sympathetic impulses that detach themselves from a 
full stomach. 

“ I suppose there’s no way out of it? ” 

“ None whatever,” grunted Stoughton, who was lin- 
ing his basket with moss and objected to being thus 
recalled. “ What the devil has this to do with divi- 
dends? ” 

“ Nothing, I admit, but why in thunder did we start 
this game anyway? Why couldn’t we just take things 
easy and go fishing. We’ve all got enough.” 

Wimperley stretched his arms above his head in 
delicious fatigue. “ Keep away from second causes ; 
this is no place for them. Four years ago you were 
meant to go fishing to-day in this very stream. Why 
worry about it? ” 

“ I’m thinking about one R. F. C.,” came back Riggs 
reflectively, “ just like the rest of you.” 

“ Well,” sounded the dry voice of Birch, “ so am I. 
And all this is very apropos. It illustrates the general 
condition of affairs, especially that mess of trout you 
had on the moss a while ago. We’re all trout, we 
and the shareholders. You, Wimperley, are that five 
pounder. We all rose to the fly of one R. F. C., and we 
were all landed in the back woods. There are more 
trout in that stream, and, if we stand for it, the fishing 
is still good, but I’ve got the sting of the fly still in 
my gills. Also I’m thinking about one Henry Mar- 
sham.” 

Stoughton nodded sagely. “ That’s right, but if you 
liked fishing, Birch, you wouldn’t drag in shareholders 
in that churlish fashion. What about blast furnaces, 
136 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


Riggs? We haven’t heard a whisper yet. Wonder 
what Clark is thinking of ? ” 

“ Oh Lord! ” murmured the little man, “ if we only 
had iron ! ” 

Fisette, who was dipping his dishes in a pot of hot 
water, turned his head ever so slightly. The others 
had either forgotten about him or concluded that their 
conversation was beyond a half-breed. But not a word 
had escaped the sharp ears of the man who moved so 
silently beside the fire. * Iron ! ’ They had iron, but 
apparently did not know it. Fisette felt in his pocket 
for the small angular fragment he always carried, and 
was about to hand it to Wimperley, when again he re- 
membered Clark’s command. He was to say nothing 
to any one. So the half-breed, with wonder in his soul, 
laid more wood on the fire and, squatting in the shadow 
of a rock, stared at the stream now shrouded in the 
gloom, and waited for what might come. 

“ But there’s none in this damned country,” blurted 
Stoughton, “ so get back to Birch’s picture of the share- 
holders on the moss.” 

“ Trouble is I can’t get away from it.” Riggs’ small 
voice was so plaintive that the others laughed, then 
dropped into a reverie while there came the murmur of 
the hidden stream and the small unceasing voices of the 
dusk that blend into the note which men call silence. 
Very softly and out of the south drifted a melodious 
sound. 

“ Six o’clock at the works,” drawled Birch, snap- 
ping his watch. “ Does that suggest anything? ” 

An hour later two buckboards drew up in front of 
137 


THE RAPIDS 


the hotel and the four stepped down, a little stiff, but 
utterly content. As Riggs took his basket from Fisette, 
he coughed a little awkwardly. 

“ Look here, you fellows, Fm going to send my fish 
to R. F. C. with our compliments. It’s only decent.” 

“ Well,” remarked Birch reflectively, “ you might as 
well. It’s the only compliment we’re paying this trip.” 

A profound sleep strengthened their resolution, and 
when next morning Clark announced that he had ar- 
ranged a trip up the lake, they acceded at once. In 
half an hour the company’s big tug steamed out into 
Lake Superior, and the four, wrapped in big coats, for 
the water was like ice and the air chill, waited for the 
hour when Clark should run dry. 

“You’re going back this evening?” he said as the 
vessel rounded the long pine covered point that screened 
the rapids from the open lake. 

Birch nodded. 

“ We’ll get through by this afternoon. There isn’t 
any more to show you.” Clark spoke with a certain 
quick incisiveness and his eyes seemed unusually keen 
and bright. 

“ We’ve seen all we want to see.” 

The other man glanced at him sharply and said 
nothing. Then, as the big tug plowed on, the great 
expanse of Superior opened before them, a gigantic 
sheet of burnished glass edged with shadowy shores, 
and a long island whose soft outline seemed to float 
indistinctly on the unruffled water. As they steamed, 
Clark told them of the giant bark canoes that once came 
down from the lake heavy with fur, to unload at the 

138 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


Hudson Bay store at St. Marys, and disappear as 
silently as they came laden with colored cotton and 
Crimea muskets and lead and powder. He told of 
lonely voyageurs and the Jesuit priests who, traveling 
utterly alone, penetrated these wilds with sacrificial 
courage, carrying the blessed Sacrament to the scattered 
lodges of Sioux and Huron. Then, shifting abruptly, 
he talked of his own coming to St. Marys and the 
chance talk on a train that turned his attention to that 
Arcadia till, as the moments passed, he himself began 
to take on romantic proportions and appear in the 
imagination of his hearers as a sort of modern 
voyageur, who had discovered a new commercial 
kingdom. 

“ These logs,” he said abruptly, “ are from our 
limits.” 

The others glanced over the tug’s high bows and 
saw nearing them a great brown raft towed by a small 
puffing vessel. 

“ Pulp wood, — ten thousand cords there. It doesn’t 
take long to chew it up at the rate we’re going. I want 
to speak to Baudette.” 

He motioned to the bridge and the big tug drew in 
slowly beside its smaller brother, while he talked to a 
brown-faced man who leaned over the rail and an- 
swered in monosyllables, his sharp eyes taking in the 
group behind the general manager. The tug sheered 
off and put on speed, while Wimperley and the rest held 
their breath as they skirted the straining boom that in- 
closed the raft. Presently the high, sharp bow turned 
shoreward, steam was cut off and the tug made fast to 
139 


THE RAPIDS 


the sheer side of a little buff that rose steeply out of 
deep water. 

Clark stepped out on a narrow gang plank that just 
reached the land. “ You fellows haven't seen this 
north country yet, and I'd like you to get something of 
it on foot. This is part of our concession secured from 
the provincial government and I want you to walk 
over just a little of it. As directors you ought to.” 

“ Come on,” said Wimperley under his breath. 
“ It’s the last chapter, he’s nearly dry.” 

The trail was narrow and newly cut. Treading at 
first on smooth rock, the Philadelphians took it briskly, 
jumping over stones and logs and pausing now and then 
at vistas of the lake. They were a little short of breath 
when the path dipped to low ground and struck straight 
across a tangled ravine. Here the bush was thicker, 
and the air warm and moist. Gradually the four coats 
came off. 

“ Hold on a minute, Clark,” panted Stoughton who 
was beginning to sweat. 

“ It’s better over here, come along.” 

But if it was better they did not notice it. Wimper- 
ley stumbled over a root and plunged one hand up to the 
wrist in slimy mud. Riggs was breathing hard and his 
nostrils dilated, but he plugged doggedly on. Birch, 
now very red in the face, stepped close behind Stough- 
ton, his cheeks stinging from the swish of branches 
released by the man just ahead. Stoughton, his 
heart pumping, was in the lead, and desperately trying 
to catch the steadily progressing figure of Clark. He 
felt almost like murder. Ten minutes more and the 
140 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


Philadelphians had lost all traces of refinement. Wim- 
perley’s trousers were torn at the knee and his white, 
scratched skin showed through. Riggs had dropped 
coat and waistcoat beside the trail, his collar was off, 
his small body tired and twisted, and from his lips 
streamed language to which he had long been a 
stranger. Birch had lagged far behind but plowed 
on with a cold determination. He was breathing 
audibly through his nose, his watch chain was dangling 
on a cedar branch a quarter of a mile back, a sharp 
pain throbbed in a barked shin and his boots were full 
of water. Still in the lead was Stoughton, who, re- 
gardless of all else, had put down his head and was 
crashing heavily through the underbrush like a young 
bull moose answering the call of his distant and amor- 
ous mate. Clark was quite invisible. Presently the 
four halted. Humanity had gone its limit. Birch 
dragged himself up and they stared at each other with 
furious eyes. 

“ Lend me a handkerchief/' panted Riggs. 

Stoughton felt in his pocket, pulling one out with a 
cascade of pine needles, when from three hundred feet 
ahead came a voice : 

“ I'm where we stop, you fellows, come on up.” 

“ That's just where he is.” Birch’s difficult speech 
had something in it that was almost deadly. “ He’s 
asked for it and he’s going to get it right here. Come 
on.” 

They trailed slowly up, a small, bedraggled, indecent 
procession, lost to everything except utter weariness 
and a spirit of cold revenge. In Stoughton’s heavy 
141 


THE RAPIDS 


heart was the thought that Clark had unexpectedly 
made their job vastly easier than they anticipated. 
The latter was on a little knoll that rose roundly from 
the encircling bush. He seemed cool and comfortable, 
and this stirred them to deeper anger. His features 
were expressionless, save that his lips twitched ever so 
slightly. The Philadelphians dropped and lay limply, 
and there was silence for perhaps five minutes when 
Birch lifted a haggard face and spoke. 

“ Look here, Clark, I don’t know the reason for this 
fool expedition, none of us do, but it serves well enough 
to lead up to the point of other fool expeditions on a 
larger scale.” 

“ Yes? ” said Clark with a lift in his voice. 

“ It does. Now I’d like to go back about four years 
when you said that three millions would do you. In 
between now and then is a long story and I haven’t got 
breath to tell it, but to-day you’ve had seven and we’re 
deeper in the woods than ever we were.” 

“ Go ahead, I’m following you.” 

“ The long and the short of it is that we’ve had 
enough.” 

“ Of me? ” The voice was very quiet. 

“ Yes, damn it, of you; that is, in your present 
position of general manager. You can have one or 
two of the subsidiary companies but not the whole darn 
thing, and — ” 

“ The point is,” cut in Wimperley, “ that we’re 
afraid of you. We’ve not paid a dividend and, as 
things go, there’s not any likelihood that we ever will. 
It’s not easy to talk like this, and don’t think we under- 
142 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


estimate what you’ve done. No other man I know of 
could have done it, but there’s a limit to the money 
available in the State of Pennsylvania for this business 
— and we’ve reached it — that’s all.” 

“ And if you want to know what’s upset the apple- 
cart,” chirped Riggs with a little shiver — for they 
were all taking turns by now — “ it’s that fool proposal 
to build a railway through this ungodly wilderness.” 
The little man glanced about him with visible abhor- 
rence. 

“ And a blast furnace without any ore,” concluded 
Stoughton heavily. 

Clark’s eyes wandered round the group while through 
his whole body ran a divine thrill. He had very swiftly 
interpreted the purpose of this official visit. The direc- 
tors wanted to get rid of him but funked the job, and 
now he experienced a certain contempt for their help- 
lessness. He had a vivid sense of the dramatic and this 
tramp had been carefully thought out. The oppor- 
tunity was made and it was for them to use it. He 
drew a long breath, conscious that here was the mo- 
ment which comes but seldom in the lives of men. It 
was only five years ago that, practically penniless, he 
had overheard a conversation in a train. 

“ Ore ? ” he said coolly without changing a muscle. 
“ Why, you’re sitting on five million tons of the best 
ore I ever saw.” 

A blue jay lit on a branch over his head and looked 
impudently down. No one spoke. Presently Wimper- 
ley scratched at the moss with his heel, bared a strip of 
rock and stared at it as though he had hurt it. Stough- 
143 


THE RAPIDS 


ton rolled over and shot side glances at Clark, whose 
eyes were fixed on the jagged horizon. 

“ What ? ” whispered Riggs. 

“ The discovery was made some days ago by one of 
our own prospectors, but I could not speak definitely 
until the various analyses were completed. It is ex- 
cellent ore and will smelt well. There is limestone 
within two miles of the works. The coke, of course, 
will have to be brought up.” 

“ I’ll be damned ! ” murmured Stoughton in a voice 
husky with reverence. 

The others spoke not at all, but peered blinkingly at 
Clark as though his recumbent body were hiding more 
wonders from them. Presently Wimperley, who knew 
something of ore, bent stiffly forward, picked up a frag- 
ment of rock and, after a long scrutiny, nodded slowly. 

“ This exposure is about half a mile long,” said the 
quiet voice. “ It crops out there and there,” he pointed 
to neighboring ridges, “ and there’s more beyond that, 
if you’d care to walk over.” 

But no one cared. The Philadelphians were too lost 
in fatigue and astonishment. After a little Riggs 
commandeered the rest and the four began to roll back 
great blankets of moss, just as Fisette had done the 
week before, and everywhere beneath lay iron ore. 
Clark watched them with a suggestive smile till, after a 
little, Birch sat down panting, his hands stained with 
soil. 

“ Well ? ” he demanded, “ how about it? ” 

“ It was something more than three years ago that 
the first prospector went in,” commenced Clark 
144 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


thoughtfully, “ and I reported at the time that it was 
definitely stated by those who ought to know that there 
was no iron in the country. Geological maps showed 
the same thing, but it struck me there was too much 
guess work about them, so we began to make maps of 
our own. A month ago we got into iron formation and 
soon after came the discovery. I felt all along that 
the stuff was there, but could not say anything officially 
till the analyses were completed. We can lay this ore 
down at the workers for two dollars a ton. And now,” 
he added in a voice that suddenly changed into sharp 
and rising tones, “ do I get my blast furnace? ” 

The effect on the group was extraordinary. They 
had sat motionless, oblivious to fatigue and mosquitoes, 
while Clark spoke. Their brains were flooded with the 
knowledge that this meant ultimate permanence to the 
works. It meant rails and plates and all iron and steel 
products, and these were made doubly possible by the 
enormous reserve of power still available in the rapids 
at St. Marys. They glanced into the woods as though 
there were still mysterious treasures waiting to be re- 
vealed at a wave of the hand of this magician. 

Presently Wimperley straightened up. He had been 
going through a strange searching of soul while his 
gaze wandered from the glistening rock at his feet to 
Clark’s keen face. He began to perceive clearly for 
the first time the prodigious potentiality of this man 
who was equally masterful in Philadelphia and the back 
woods. He saw to what wide scope this enterprise 
could expand if only this restless and prophetic spirit 
might be wisely steered by men of colder brains and 
145 


THE RAPIDS 


more deliberate resolution. But Clark, after all, was 
the creator. 

“ Yes,” he said half aloud, “ you get your blast fur- 
nace.” 

The Philadelphians took to the homeward trail with 
backward glances and something of regret lest the 
archsean foundations of that mountain of ore might 
shift over night. There was no sense of fatigue now. 
Birch skipped over logs in wayward abandon and 
laughed like a schoolboy when Clark picked a heavy 
gold watch chain that dangled from an overhanging 
bush. Riggs’ thin legs were being scratched by the 
sharp samples with which he had stuffed his trouser 
pockets, but he felt them not, and Stoughton’s choler 
had given way to a profound contemplation out of 
which he periodically breathed the conviction that he 
would be damned. Wimperley was already organiz- 
ing a new company — an iron corporation — and 
hazarding shrewd guesses as to the effect this dis- 
covery would have on the outstanding stock. The re- 
sult, he concluded, would be most inspiring. 

They lunched on the tug, an admirable meal, while 
the vessel vibrated gently and through the open port- 
holes came the swish of bubbling water and a flood of 
sunlight. Then Riggs made a little speech and they all 
drank Clark’s health, promising him continued support 
and such money as he needed to make steel rails. The 
threatening specter of Marsham had vanished utterly. 

The answer was characteristic. There was no men- 
tion of anything the speaker had contributed, but just 
the voicing of his unalterable faith in a country which 
146 


CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION 


so far had never failed to produce whatever the in- 
dustry required. It was a pleasure for him to work 
for directors and shareholders who had so practically 
demonstrated their confidence. He said this with a 
smile which was absolutely undecipherable, then drank 
their health in water which was his only drink — de- 
clined one of Wimperley’s cigars, for he did not smoke 
— 'and inquired quietly if he was to get his railway as 
well. Whereupon he was immediately assured that he 
would get anything he asked for. 

That evening the Philadelphians left in the private 
car. They were rather quiet, being caught up in con- 
templation of a new vision. As the train pulled out 
Clark waved a hand to the group on the rear platform 
and returned thoughtfully to the blockhouse where he 
began to write. The letter was to his mother. He 
told her that he had been too busy for correspondence 
of late, and had just concluded a very satisfactory and 
official visit from his directors. In consequence, he 
would now be busier than ever. He stared at his own 
signature for a moment, then opened a window and 
stood peering out toward the river. The m?oon was up, 
and he caught the snowy gleam of foam at the foot of 
the rapids. Their voice seemed very clear and very 
triumphant that night. They sang of providence — or 
was it destiny ? 

His mind turned reflectively to Elsie Worden, 
experiencing as yet no thrill but just a growing and 
satisfying attraction. All things seemed possible to- 
night. He had never given much thought to women, 
being impatient with what seemed to him their artifice 
147 


THE RAPIDS 


and slight power of insight. So often the women who 
were esteemed most praiseworthy, were also the least 
intelligent, and lacked that spark which to him signified 
vision. In past years he had had a rooted belief that 
the standard wife was a burden who not only robbed 
one of mobility, but also demanded her portion of all 
moments, however individual, absorbed or tense they 
might be. In such circumstances there was nothing 
around which he could build a mental fence and call it 
his own. 

It is possible that in such periods as these, when 
Clark gave himself up to taking soundings, as it were, 
in the sea of his destiny, he distinguished in his own 
nature that curious duality of sex which makes it pos- 
sible for certain rare individuals to self satisfy their 
emotional appetites, and that it was this which had 
kept him single and unfettered. If he had a craving 
he could forthwith produce that which appeased it. He 
luxuriated in the revelations of his own perception. 
To him the inarticulate thing became vocal with pos- 
sibilities. He was conscious of no unsatisfied need. 
And yet, for all of this, the vision of the girl, Elsie, 
began to blend with his thoughts. 


XII.— LOVE AND DOUBT 


S OME three months later Belding was walking 
slowly down the main street of St. Marys. He 
felt fagged and the sun was hot. Just as he reached 
the Dibbotts’ white gate he heard a clear voice from 
behind the clump of azaleas that screened the cottage 
from the road. 

“ Come in, Mr. Belding.” 

He lifted the latch and saw Mrs. Dibbott in a white 
dress on the porch. She seemed cool and restful. 

“ Sit down here. My, but you look tired ! ” 

“ I am,” he admitted, mopping his face. 

“ Then sit where you are and have some elderberry 
wine and cookies. They’re right from the oven.” 

He sighed with relief and began to munch con- 
tentedly. He had not known how tired he was, and 
Mrs. Dibbott’s cookies were famous. 

“ You look played out,” she went on sympathetically. 
“ How’s Elsie Worden? ” 

“ Well. But I don’t see very much of her nowa- 
days.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Work.” His brain was fermenting with half com- 
pleted plans and calculations. He might as well lay it 
to that. 

“ Well, why don’t you two get married? You will 
be old before your time.” 


149 


THE RAPIDS 


Belding shook his head. “ It takes two to make a 
bargain.” 

“ But it doesn’t take long.” Mrs. Dibbott put down 
her crochet work. T< Don’t you think your friend Mr. 
Clark depends just a little too much on individuals — 
I include himself in that? ” 

“ Perhaps, but it didn’t occur to me. At any rate 
we have a one man concern.” 

“And if anything happened to him, what then?” 
' Mrs. Dibbott’s eyes were bright with inquiry. “ And 
suppose you break down, what about Elsie ? ” 

“ Elsie wouldn’t be affected,” he said slowly. 

“ Then you two are not engaged? ” 

“ I thought we would be by this time but I guessed 
wrong.” 

Mrs. Dibbott was full of sympathy. “ I suppose it 
serves me right for poking my nose into other people’s 
business. My, but I’m sorry ! What’s the matter with 
Elsie ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Then with you? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ May an old woman make a fool of herself? 9 
“ Please — but it won’t be that.” 

“ Then has Elsie found some one else — if you don’t 
mind my asking? ” 

“ Possibly, — I can’t say.” 

“ But you’re the only man in town who takes her 
anywhere. The judge is fond of you, he told me so, 
and Mrs. Worden thinks you are the whole world. 
What’s the matter, Jimmy? ” 

150 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


Belding got rather red. “ I’m afraid I can’t say.” 

Mrs. Dibbott’s eyebrows went up, then she leaned 
over and patted his hand. “ Whoever it is you’ll knock 
him out. Sorry I did make a fool of myself, but it’s 
my fixed belief that you come first with Elsie, though 
perhaps she doesn’t know it.” 

Belding laughed in spite of himself. “ She certainly 
doesn’t know it yet.” 

“ Now tell me about the iron works.” 

“ It will be a couple of years before they are 
finished.” Belding’s brain began to throb once more. 
In imagination he was putting up blast furnaces. 

“ It will mean a good deal for the town, won’t it ? ” 

He nodded. “ The biggest thing yet — St. Marys 
is all right now.” 

“ And it was that dirty old Fisette who found the 
mine ? ” 

Belding chuckled. “ He’s not old nor dirty, and was 
the best prospector of the lot. Yes, he found it.” 

“ Goodness! were there many of them? ” 

“ About twenty. They all worked in different dis- 
tricts and knew nothing about each other.” 

“ Then that’s what brought that special train load 
up from Philadelphia? ” 

“ I suppose so. They seemed very happy when they 
left.” 

Mrs. Dibbott poured out some more elderberry wine. 
“ When I think what that man has done just out of 
water, it makes me gasp. I switch on the light and 
don’t trim any more lamp wicks, and the well’s gone 
dry and I don’t care, and Mr. Filmer told me last night 
I5i 


THE RAPIDS 


there are eight thousand more people in St. Mary’s. 
Do you remember that meeting?*” 

“ Every word of it.” 

“ And Mr. Manson — he was a wet blanket, wasn’t 
he?” 

“ But he was snowed under, fortunately.” 

“ I know he was, but did you hear that he has made 
a fortune out of real estate, and is going round with a 
face as long as his back ? ” 

Belding knew nothing about Manson — he had been 
too busy. 

“ Every one says he’s in the dumps because he sold 
out just before Fisette found that mine and real estate 
has been jumping ever since.” 

“ But he never believed in Mr. Clark.” 

“ Some of him does and some of him doesn’t,” said 
Mrs. Dibbott sagely. 

“ How much did he make?” Belding was wiser 
with other people’s money than with his own. 

“ They say twenty-five thousand and,” she added 
enigmatically, “ I’m sorry for his wife.” 

The engineer laughed, said good-by and turned 
toward the Worden house. 

At the sound of his step in the garden Elsie looked 
up, a provocative smile on her face. She was so 
dainty, so desirable, that he felt a swift hunger throb- 
bing even to his finger tips. She made room for him 
on the bench. 

“ I’m for Mother Earth.” He stretched himself at 
her feet. “ Where have you been lately, we’ve missed 
you at the works.” 


152 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


“ I’ve just got back, been away for two weeks. Are 
you still very busy ? ” 

He nodded, but business was not what he wanted to 
talk about. It was more than two years now since 
they first met and he had a feeling that all that time he 
had been an open book to her bright eyes. 

“ Don’t let us talk business,” he said a little un- 
steadily. 

She swung her large straw hat by its silk ribbons. 
“ You shall choose your own subject.” 

“ It isn’t business, it’s you,” he went on bluntly. 
“ I’ve tried to tell you before but you wouldn’t let me.” 

“ It’s a heavenly evening for a proposal.” 

“ Do you mean that? ” he gasped. 

“ Why shouldn’t I ? The moon is just coming up 
and the river is quiet and we can hear the rapids, and 
here you are at my feet. What more could a girl 
ask?” 

Something twitched at Belding’s fancy. “ Then I 
love you and I want you desperately and I’ll take care 
of you all my life. Is there any one else? ” 

His voice sobered her. “ Don’t, you mustn’t say it 
like that, it sounds too real.” 

“ But it is real,” he protested, “ the most real thing 
I ever said.” 

“ You mustn’t,” she answered a little shakily. “ I’m 
sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on like that.” 

Belding captured her hand. “ I’m glad you did, 
Elsie, it was just right.” 

“ But I didn’t mean it,” she said pitifully, “ and it 
wasn’t fair of me. I didn’t know you felt like that.” 
153 


THE RAPIDS 


Belding stared at her astonished. “ You must have 
known.” 

“ Then possibly I did, — I wasn’t sure. I — I didn’t 
think of it much, but, Jimmy, I don’t want to be mar- 
ried just now. You’ve been splendid ever since we 
met — and really I didn’t want you to say what you 
did.” 

“ Perhaps not in the way I said it.” Belding’s face 
became suddenly rigid. “ And perhaps now I know 
why. You see it’s hard for me to compete with my 
own chief,” he added grimly. 

“ That’s not fair,” she burst out, her cheeks flaming. 
“If you really cared you wouldn’t say it.” 

“ I only want to know where I stand,” he replied with 
sudden dignity. “If you’ll tell me that, I will be satis- 
fied — for to-night.” 

Her mood changed in a flash. “ That sounds better, 
but, Jimmy, must you know to-night? It’s hard for 
me to tell you.” 

“Why?” he demanded. He wanted his answer, 
fraught with whatever fate. 

“ Because I don’t just know myself,” she said softly. 
“ I wonder if I can explain. I am fond of you, Jimmy, 
more than you know, but I want to be fair to you and 
I want to be fair to myself as well. Have you never 
been in a state in which you were conscious that the 
world was full of things you had dreamed of but never 
expected to find actually? ” 

He stared at her with the swift intuition that there 
had been a season not long ago when he felt just like 
this. But now he was getting used to it. 

154 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


“ Yes,” his voice was quite steady, “ I know what 
you mean.” 

“ It’s that way with me now, and I’m just finding out 
about myself.” Her eyes were fixed on the white line 
of the rapids. “ I don’t know what sort of a woman 
I’m going to be, — that sounds queer but it’s true. 
I’m going to want something more than love,” she 
added under her breath. 

Belding did not stir and there drifted down to them 
the deep, hollow monotone that pervades St. Marys 
when the wind comes in from the west. The young 
man scanned the innumerable lights beside the rapids, — 
he , could place each one of them. Then slowly the 
moon came up with a soft gleam that laid a silver path 
across the river and touched the girl into an unearthly 
beauty. 

“ I want you, Elsie,” he pleaded. 

She looked at him with eyes like stars. “ Perhaps I 
want you, Jimmy,” she breathed, “ but I don’t know 
yet. Supposing I said 1 yes ’ and then it was all wrong 
— for each of us? ” 

“ You said you asked for more than love; perhaps I 
have no more — in your mind.” 

Clark’s name was hammering in his brain, but he 
kept it down. 

Followed a little silence. “ Do you want to do 
something for me ? ” she said presently. Her lips 
were tremulous. 

“ I’ve always wanted that.” 

“ Then give me time to find myself — I’m trying 
hard now.” 


155 


THE RAPIDS 


Belding moved restlessly. “ Fm afraid that some 
one else will find you.” 

She glanced at him startled. “ If that happens, 
Jimmy, it means that I haven’t spoilt your life.” 

“ I want you to spoil it.” 

“ You haven’t answered my question; will you give 
me time? ” 

Belding got up, put his hands on her slim straight 
shoulders and stared into the beautiful, troubled face. 

“ Elsie, if any one else does come between us — ” 

She was seized with strange and sudden fear. “ No, 
no, you don’t know what you are saying.” 

He relented instantly. “ I’m sorry, I was talking 
nonsense. Now I’ve got to go and see the bishop about 
the new church — won’t you come ? ” 

The shadow passed from her eyes. “ Yes, I’d love 
to see him, if you won’t get on that subject again.” 

“ What subject?” 

“You know,” she laughed, once more light hearted. 

“ I promise, but for to-day only.” 

They walked slowly down the long straight street 
that led past Filmer’s house, which was surrounded by 
trees, and reached the corner where Fisette’s cottage 
marked the turn up to the bishop’s residence. Fisette 
was on his front doorstep with small people around 
him, and waved gayly as they passed. 

“ He’s very happy now, isn’t he ? ” said Elsie. 

Belding nodded. He found it hard to join in the 
happiness of another man whose children’s arms were 
about his neck. Elsie’s eyes turned to the figure of the 
bishop, who was on his wide veranda, a large straw 

156 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


hat on the back of his head. Manuscript lay on the 
floor beside him but at the moment he was absorbed in 
a large green leaf that spread across his knees. It 
was piled with strawberries. As the gate clicked he 
signaled hospitably. 

“Come along, children — just in time. Mr. Bel- 
ding, can you pick fruit by moonlight? Elsie, come 
here and talk to me. To tell the truth I wasn’t thinking 
just now of any of my flock, but I’d much sooner see a 
lamb like you than some of the old ewes who will al- 
ways insist on being serious and respectful. What you 
observe on the floor is a book I would have written if 
I’d not been a bishop.” He rambled on till Belding 
reappeared with a hat full of berries. 

“ Here they are, sir, and I’ve got another offering 
as well.” 

“ You don’t say so, what is it? ” 

“ Do you remember, a year or so ago, talking to me 
about a pro-cathedral ? ” 

“ Very distinctly. But I was afraid that the press 
of work had made the thing impossible so far as you 
were concerned, so I let the matter stand.” 

“ Well, it isn’t impossible, and that church is going 
to be built.” 

The bishop drew a long breath. “ I am delighted to 
hear it, because I haven’t got any money yet. It has 
all gone in salaries of missionaries, and your friend 
Mr. Clark has put me to a lot of extra expense. I 
knew he would the minute I saw him.” 

“ But this church,” said Belding with a little lift in 
his voice, “ is going to be built without money. Peter- 
157 


THE RAPIDS 


son, the masonry contractor at the works, will give the 
stone, and his masons will donate the labor. Borth- 
wick, another contractor, will give the lumber and his 
carpenters will put it together. Windows — plain 
glass of course — and the various fittings are all taken 
care of by different people, and there was just one thing 
I found a little difficult, and now that’s all right.” 

“ And what was it? ” The bishop was leaning for- 
ward, his large, expressive eyes very bright. 

“ Cement, sir. No one seemed to have any to spare. 
Finally I went to Ryan — I don’t know whether he has 
met you.” 

“ Yes, an excellent type — one of my own country- 
men. I like Ryan, a strong Romanist, isn’t he? ” 

“ Yes, but finally I ran him down and told him I 
wanted enough cement to build a Protestant church.” 

“ But — ” 

“ But, listen ! Ryan thought it over for a minute, 
then his eyes began to twinkle and he pointed to his 
storehouse and said that if it would cement the Protes- 
tant church together I might take the pile.” 

Elsie laughed, while the bishop relapsed into deep 
body-shaking mirth. 

“ Splendid ! Fine chap that Ryan. He’s from 
Maynooth and I’m from Lurgan and who says the 
Irish don’t hang together? So it’s all settled? ” 

“ Yes, when can we start work? ” 

“ At once if it’s possible. How long will it take? ” 

“Three months would finish it. The job will be 
swarming with men.” 

“ Good, and we hope that Ryan’s cement will hold 

158 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


the church together. I’m reminded of another Rom- 
anist friend who was approached for a similar Protes- 
tant object. He wouldn’t help to build the new church 
but he did contribute toward tearing down the old one. 
And now,” here this good and kindly man paused and 
looked affectionately at the two young people beside 
him, “ it’s my turn to make a suggestion.” 

Elsie glanced up with uncomfortable intelligence. 

“ I’d like the first wedding in the new church to be 
yours if possible. And if you like, I’ll officiate my- 
self.” He patted the girl’s hand softly. 

“ That’s dear of you,” she stammered, “ but — it’s a 
long way off.” 

The bishop looked up sharply and saw that Belding’s 
eyes were fixed on Fisette’s cottage. “ By the way, 
how’s my friend Mr. Clark? ” he put in hastily. 

Belding smiled, “ Working too hard, as usual.” 

“ And working every one else, especially you. Well, 
I assume that’s his way. I’d like you to tell him that 
we’re building a new church because he did not seem to 
care for the other one.” 

“Does that fall within the office of an engineer? ” 
said Belding doubtfully. 

“ Unquestionably. Your profession does many dif- 
ferent things by many different methods. By the way, 
I hear we are to have iron works in St. Marys.” 

“ Yes, thank’s to Fisette.” 

“ It’s some years since Mr. Clark told me he had rea- 
son to believe there was iron in the district. Now I 
hope that this prophet will have honor in his own 
country.” 


159 


THE RAPIDS 


A few minutes later the young people rose to go. 
The bishop followed them to the gate, and Elsie felt 
the benediction of his kiss on her forehead. He 
watched them from his veranda till, with something of 
a sigh, he collected the manuscript at his feet, put it 
away and turned to next Sunday’s sermon. He looked 
at this thoughtfully, then walking slowly into his study 
laid it also away. His face was suddenly careworn. 
He felt unduly oppressed by the burdens of his office, 
and there came back on him, as it often did, like a flood, 
the consciousness that it was for him by personal effort 
to raise half the money needed to pay his forty mission- 
aries. Should he fail, they went without. Constantly 
aware of their simple faith, he knew also that they were 
poorly fed and lacked any provision for old age. 

Involuntarily he began to compare their lot with that 
of the magnetic Clark, and was confronted with an eter- 
nal problem. Why should faith and sacrificial loyalty 
fare so much more poorly than the mechanical and con- 
structive nature ? Clark had, apparently, the world at 
his feet, but what comfort and security was there for 
brave and spiritual souls, and for what baffling reason 
were they robbed of present reward? 

He pondered this deeply, and, raising his troubled 
eyes, looked fixedly at a large print of the Sistine 
Madonna that hung on the study wall just opposite his 
desk. As he gazed at its ineffable tenderness there 
came to him a slow surcease of strain. Flotsam and 
jetsam of eternity they might all be, his missionaries 
and Clark and himself, but underneath were the ever- 
lasting arms, on which, — and he thanked God for this, 
160 


LOVE AND DOUBT 


— some had already learned to lean. There flashed 
into his mind his own arrival at St. Marys, the northern 
center of his vast diocese ; the joy with which the neigh- 
boring Indian tribes had welcomed him and the name 
“ The Rising Sun ” which they had forthwith given 
him. They had looked forward, they said, to his com- 
ing as to morning after the darkness of night. The 
reflection grew in his mind and brought with it hope 
and renewed courage. 


XIII.— THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


I T fell on a morning that Clark, sitting at his desk, 
felt within him that strange stirring to which he 
had long since learned to give heed, it being his habit 
at such moments to leave the works and resign himself 
completely to these subtle processes. He now walked 
slowly across toward the river and seated himself 
where, years before, he had watched the triumphant 
kingfisher. The place had a peculiar fascination for 
him, and had by his orders been kept in its pristine 
wildness. Half a mile away the pulp mill was grind- 
ing dully, on the upper reaches of the great bay circular 
saws were ripping into logs fresh from Baudette’s 
operations on the Magwa River, and seventy miles up 
the river a large crew was shipping and excavating at 
the iron mine. These things and many others being 
on foot, Clark had experienced that intellectual rest- 
lessness which in him was the precursor of further 
effort. 

Listening to the boom of the river he reflected that 
the water he had diverted to his own purposes was 
but a fraction of the whole mighty torrent racing in 
front of him. Into the scant half mile between shore 
and shore was forced the escaping flood of the mighty 
Superior, and such was the compression that, midway, 
the torrent heaped itself up into a low ridge of broken 
plunging crests. Just over the ridge he could see the 
opposite shore line. It did not occur to him, as it 
162 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


would to many, how puny were the greatest efforts of 
man beside this prodigious mass. The manner of his 
mind was too objective. The sight of the United 
States so close at hand only suggested that in the 
country from which he came he had as yet made no 
physical mark. There was the town with the rapids 
close beside it, just as in Canada. More and more the 
inward stirring captured him. Why should he not 
create in his own land what he had already created 
in Canada ? 

The idea was stimulating, and very carefully he re- 
viewed the situation as it there existed. His supporters 
were keen men in Philadelphia and the unexpected 
announcement of Fisette’s discovery had electrified the 
market. Shares in all the allied companies touched 
hitherto unreached values. The more he thought the 
more he luxuriated in this new sweep of imagination, 
while intermittently there came to him the dull boom 
of blasting at the works. 

Presently his mind turned to money and personal 
wealth. He had never given it much thought, and only 
seriously considered money in terms of what it could 
accomplish. Now he was receiving a very large salary 
and had, as well, holdings in shares of the various 
companies. He dwelt on the fact for a while, not that 
he had ever aimed at riches, but because his financial 
position was infinitely better than ever before. It 
would be easy, he reflected, to sell out, retire and live 
at ease. He chuckled audibly at the picture, realizing 
that if he stopped work he would die of a strangulated 
spirit. 


THE RAPIDS 


Presently as he listened it seemed that the rapids took 
on a new pitch. He had remarked before that, varying 
with the direction of the wind, their call was not always 
in one great thundering diapason but sometimes in a 
gigantic hubbub made up, as it were, of the confused 
blending of many notes. Now, he imagined, he could 
discern them all — querulous, angry, contented, plead- 
ing, defiant, threatening and triumphant, and he per- 
ceived intern but the echo of changing human moods. 
To-day he distinguished chiefly a voice that was domi- 
nant and imperative. 

Still in profound contemplation he surveyed the 
rapids’ gigantic sweep, the proud and tossing billows 
shot through with sunlight and vibrant with speed. 
He made out those smooth and glistening emerald 
cellars into which the flashing river pitched to rise 
again in tossing crests. He followed back through the 
icy depths of the great lake stretching westward to hid- 
den swamps in that vast wilderness where these waters 
were born, and shouting rivers down which they poured 
through silent pools and over leaping cataracts to 
Superior. He saw still another river that, growing in 
power and majesty, moved royally past the cities of 
men, healing, sustaining and inspiring. And, last of 
all, he perceived these waters of half a continent blend 
silently with the brackish tides and lose themselves in 
the eternal sea. 

This translation of vision moved him profoundly, 
for it was the nature of his remote personality to be 
stirred more deeply by the revelations of his own soul 
than by anything extraneous to its strange reactions. 

164 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


Then graually the voice of the river resolved itself into 
one clear and unmistakable summons. “ Use me while 
you may. I sltfall flow on forever, while you have but 
a moment in eternity.” 

And this satisfied him. 

He got up and walked slowly back, plunged in 
thought, but not of those who passed and touched their 
hats and to whom he was the personification of power. 
There was in his mind the talk he had with Wimperley, 
a few months before. “ We’re in your hands,” he had 
said, but there’s a limit to what we can raise. Push 
on with work and don’t forget about dividends.” 

Remembering it, Clark smiled. The dividends might 
be delayed a year or so, but when they came it would 
be in a flood like the rapids. At his office he found a 
telegram from the purchasing agent in the United 
States. Blast furnaces were under way, and, he re- 
ported, he had secured an option on a rail mill. It 
was not new, but could be had at once. To dismantle 
and reerect would save six months as against the time 
required to build a new one. This purchase would 
also save hundreds of thousands of dollars. 

He pondered for some time, with Wimperley’s re- 
marks about dividends keeping up an irritating on- 
slaught. He was aware in a strange but quite unmis- 
takable way that this decision now to be made was in a 
quite positive sense more momentous than appeared on 
the surface. He hung over it, balancing the advantages 
of a new mill against a definite saving. It was not the 
sum about which he hesitated, but a touch of uncer- 
tainty as to just how much capital Wimperley and the 

165 


THE RAPIDS 


rest could actually provide. Then suddenly he decided 
to be economical, even though a secondhand mill had 
obvious weaknesses. 

In the next moment he rang for Belding. The en- 
gineer answered with a weariness daily becoming more 
settled, and which was only relieved by the spontaneous 
loyalty he had from the first conceived for his chief. 
Of late he never entered Clark’s office without anticipat- 
ing some addition to burdens he had already determined 
were too heavy for his young shoulders. But now, too, 
as always, he had no sooner closed the door and caught 
the extraordinary power in Clark’s eyes than he was 
caught up in the grip of his chief’s confidence and felt 
ready for the effort. 

“ You know the ground on the other side of the 
river ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I wish you would take a look over it very quietly 
and bring me a town map on which you have indicated 
the cheapest possible route for another power canal.” 

“ Another canal ! ” said Belding involuntarily. 

“ It’s important that it should be the cheapest pos- 
sible,” went on Clark, apparently without hearing, 
“ and you’ll have to balance up the material to be ex- 
cavated by a longer route against the cost of more im- 
proved land by one that is more direct.” 

“ How much power is required ? ” The question 
came dully. 

“ Not less than thirty thousand. I’m going to make 
carbide. At least,” he added with a short laugh, “ if 
I don’t, some one else will.” 

1 66 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


Belding drew a long breath. He had a swift and 
discomforting conviction that this man, whom he felt 
forced to admire, was going too fast. Around him 
were all the evidences that he had not gone too fast 
and there seemed to be unlimited support behind him. 
But yet — 

The engineer grew very red in the face. “ Do you 
think that’s wise, sir ? ” he said with a tremendous 
effort. 

Clark glanced up in astonishment and his expression 
grew rigid. “ Just what do you mean, Belding? ” 

“ I am sorry, sir. I know it sounds impertinent but 
I’ve a rotten feeling that things — that things — ” He 
broke off in distress. 

“ I’ll trouble you to finish your sentence/’ The voice 
was like ice. 

“ Don’t misunderstand me,” the young man went 
valiantly on. “ It isn’t for myself, it’s for you.” 

“ Why me ? ” Clark’s glance softened ever so little 
at the thought. 

“ New schemes are piling up every day. We’re not 
out of one before we’re into another.” 

“ We? ” The voice had a touch of irony. 

“Yes, sir, we — because I’m with you to the end, 
whatever that may be. I don’t care if I go to smash 
and lose my job, but what about you? I don’t want to 
be disrespectful, but if this company fails it’s you that 
will have failed. I won’t count except to myself. 
You’re doing more now than ten ordinary men. Isn’t 
there enough without that?” Belding pointed across 
the river. 


167 


THE RAPIDS 


Then, to the young man’s amazement, Clark began to 
laugh, not riotously but with a gradual abandonment 
that shook his thickset body with successive convul- 
sions of mirth. Presently he wiped his eyes. 

“ Sit down, Belding, but first of all, thank you from 
the bottom of my heart. You make a brilliant contrast 
with a group I know who had to bolster themselves up 
for days to get courage to say something of the same 
kind, and they were thinking of their own skins, not 
mine. Now I want to tell you something.” 

Belding nodded. His brain was too confused for 
speech. 

“ It really doesn’t matter about me. Long ago I 
decided that I was meant for a certain purpose in this 
world. I’m trying to carry it out. I may reach it 
here — or elsewhere, frankly I don’t know. But all I 
do know is that there are certain things here that I was 
meant to tackle and this new canal is one of them. If I 
go to smash it was intended that I smash, and that 
doesn’t worry me a bit. I’m not working for myself, 
or even in a definite way for my shareholders, but I’m 
trying to adapt the forces and resources of nature to 
the use of man. Don’t you see? ” 

“ I think so.” Belding began to perceive that he 
was caught up as a small unit in a great forward move- 
ment that encompassed not only himself but thousands 
of others. 

“ So once again, thank you for what you said. It 
was a bit of a job, wasn’t it? ” 

“ The toughest thing I ever tackled.” 

Clark’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “ I know 
1 68 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


it. Now, remember I don’t want advice and if I smash 
— and I really won’t smash — I don’t want sympathy. 
It’s the kind of balm I’ve no use for. Some people are 
so hungry for sympathy that they forget their jobs. 
And, Belding! ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I’m going to see you through, remember that. 
Now make me that map, and,” he concluded with a 
provocative drawl, “ don’t forget how fortunate it is 
for you and me that water runs down hill.” 

Belding’s mind was in a whirl. “ There’s one other 
thing,” he said, “ I’ve promised to build a cathedral for 
the bishop. Peterson has given the stone and — ” 

“ I told him to,” broke in Clark ; “ couldn’t you guess 
that ? He spoke to me about it. But understand that 
neither the bishop nor any one else must know it. I 
told them all except Ryan, and I didn’t like to tread on 
his religious toes.” 

Belding laughed. “ I should have guessed it. The 
thing was too easy, and Ryan came up to the scratch 
with the rest.” 

In September the pro-cathedral was completed. 
Belding, faithful to his trust, had made almost daily 
visits of inspection, when he often found the bishop 
seated on a half-cut stone and talking with evident in- 
terest to the workmen. It seemed that the big man’s 
presence pushed the work along at top speed. On one 
occasion, a few days before the opening ceremony, the 
engineer was watching a mason laying the machicolated 
coping on the tower when the trowel slipped and 
dropped forty feet to the ground. Instantly there 
169 


THE RAPIDS 


arose a stream of profanity from the top of that sacred 
edifice. Came a chuckle at Belding’s shoulder. 

“ Unquestionably the effect of Ryan’s cement, but it’s 
going to hold our church together.” 

Glancing down, the mason caught sight of the black 
coated figure. His profanity ceased abruptly 
“ Will you please throw me up that trowel, sir? ” 
The bishop laughed and the trowel gyrated sky- 
wards. “ It makes me think of all that goes into the 
making of a church nowadays,” he said thoughtfully. 
“ By the way I wonder if my friend Mr. Clark will 
turn up next Sunday.” 

And Clark, to every one’s surprise, did turn up, 
after most of St. Marys had seated themselves in the 
new oak pews. There was Dibbott, in carefully pressed 
light gray trousers, white waistcoat and a red flower in 
his buttonhole; Mrs. Dibbott in spotless linen, for the 
day was warm. Then the Bowers, the husband with 
his metropolitan manner acquired on frequent business 
trips to Philadelphia and converse with city capitalists, 
his wife in silk and a New York hat, at which Mrs. 
Dibbott glanced with somewhat startled eyes. Things 
had gone well with the Bowers. There were the Wor- 
dens, with Elsie and Belding, the latter accepting whis- 
pered congratulations on his work but wanting only a 
look which he could not draw from the girl beside 
him. Filmer was there, his black whiskers unusually 
glossy. He pulled at them caressingly and now and 
again cleared his throat, for he was to sing the tenor 
solo. At the door, Manson hung about till old Dib- 
bott, glaring amiably down the isle, marched out and 
170 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


dragged the chief constable and his wife to a front 
seat. And last of all came Clark, who, slipping into a 
back corner, refused to move. Then the old bell ceased 
swinging in the new stone tower and the service began. 

It was all very simple and touching. Filmer’s melo- 
dious tenor never sounded better and the bishop’s talk 
was straight to the point. This pro-cathedral, built 
out of love and faith, he told them, linked the old days 
with the new. The labor of many, freely given, had 
gone into it — here his kindly gaze dwelt for an instant 
on the gray-coated figure in the corner — .and it aug- 
ured well for the future. From this building must 
spread the doctrine of charity and fellowship and 
courage. 

It was but for a few moments that he spoke, and 
when it was all over the old bell rang joyously as 
though for a wedding. Belding tried to catch Elsie’s 
glance, but she only flushed and watched the majestic 
figure of the bishop retire into the little vestry. He 
had a despondent impression that an impalpable barrier 
lay between them. On the way out they met Clark and 
the girl’s eyes brightened miraculously. 

“ Isn’t it a charming church?” she said. 

Clark nodded. “ It’s very pretty. St. Marys owes 
a good deal to Mr. Belding for this.” 

“ He made the plans, I know, but think of all the 
people who gave the labor and the things to build it 
with.” 

Belding was about to blurt out that it was Clark who 
gave the things to build it with, but a swift signal im- 
posed silence. 

171 


THE RAPIDS 


“ I know, it’s excellent. You have not been at the 
works lately.” 

“ I was there last week.” 

“ And I was in Philadelphia. I’m sorry.” 

She said good-by and, with Belding at her side, 
turned homeward. Clark looked after them curiously, 
his eyes half closing as though to hide a question that 
moved in their baffling depths. 

The congregation dispersed slowly with the convic- 
tion that there had been created one of those memories 
to which in later years the reflective mind delights to 
return. Quite naturally, and as they often did, Mrs. 
Manson and Mrs. Bowers dropped into the Dibbott 
house with its mistress. Dibbott was already there. 
He was about to start on one of his official journeys, 
and just now was rooting things out of a back cupboard 
with explosive energy. 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Bowers, folding her large, capable 
hands, “ wasn’t it lovely? ” 

The rumble of a street car sounded outside. “ It re- 
vives old times,” Mrs. Manson said softly, “ but I don’t 
believe we’ve changed much. We’re too bred in the 
bone.” 

“Do we want the old times back?” asked Mrs. 
Bowers, to whom the past years had been kind. 

“ For some things, yes, and for others, no. Living’s 
a great deal more expensive, and my husband’s income 
is just the same,” put in Mrs. Dibbott after a pause. 
“ Taxes are up, and I’m not any happier though I sup- 
pose I’m better informed. John won’t sell the place 
though he has been offered a perfectly splendid price, 
172 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


and it’s noisy — but I like it, and there’s the garden. 
Things don’t happen to me — they just happen round 
me.” 

“ And you, my dear,” continued Mrs. Bowers with 
an inquisitive glance at the chief constable’s wife, 
“ what about you? Your husband’s supposed to have 
done better than any one except Mr. Filmer.” 

The little woman flushed. She was perfectly aware 
that Manson was credited with making his fortune, 
and perhaps he had. But she had no knowledge of it. 
For a while she knew he was dealing in property, and 
then one morning he told her he had sold out. Her 
heart leaped at the news, for Manson in the past year 
or so had changed. Invariably austere, he had been 
nevertheless kind and considerate — but soon after the 
real estate venture ended he became only austere, to 
which there was added something almost like apprehen- 
sion. And this in her husband was to her of intense 
concern. 

“ I can’t say,” she began a little timidly. “ Peter 
has been telling me for months he’s going to resign and 
live at ease, but it’s always a matter of waiting just a 
little longer. I can’t help longing for the old days. 
Perhaps there was less comfort but — ” she added 
pathetically, “ there was also less restlessness. I sup- 
pose I’m out of date.” 

‘‘Did you see Mr. Clark to-day?” broke in Mrs. 
Dibbott, changing the subject with swift intuition. 

“ Yes, the first time he has been in church.” 

“ He’s not interested in us,” announced Mrs. Bowers, 
with the manner of one who delivers an axiom, “ not a 
173 


THE RAPIDS 




little bit. St. Marys happens to be the town near the 
works, and we happen to be the people in it, that’s all.” 

Mrs. Dibbott’s flexible fingers curved and met. 
“ Why should he be ? We haven’t done anything for 
him, except allow him to shoulder the town debt. And 
there isn’t a woman alive who means anything to him, 
in one sense. He’s in love — but with his work. 
There’s no room for one of us, and, if he had a wife 
we’d only discuss her like a lot of cats. Let’s be honest 
— you both know we would.” 

The others laughed and went their way, Mrs. Bowers 
to the big house near the station. It had a new porch 
and an iron fence and was freshly painted. In former 
days it never suggested personal resources as it did 
now. A little later Mrs. Manson turned into the gravel 
walk that led to the small stone annex of the big stone 
jail. Instead of going upstairs, she stopped at her 
husband’s office and knocked, as she always did. 

“ Come in,” boomed a deep voice. 

Manson was at his desk and still in his Sunday best. 
He had taken the flower out of his buttonhole and laid 
it on a printed notice of the next assize court. She 
stood looking at him, their faces almost level — such 
was his great bulk. 

“ Peter,” she said gravely, “ I want to talk to you.” 

Something in her manner impressed him and he 
pushed back his chair. “ What is it? ” 

“We don’t seem to have much time to talk nowa- 
days.” 

“ There’s no reason we shouldn’t.” 

“ That’s just it — but we don’t. Now I want to ask 
174 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


you something and, Peter, you mustn’t put me off — 
as you always do. 

“ It’s about ourselves,” she went on, with a long 
breath, “ but principally about you — and it concerns 
the children. Everything’s changed and you’re not 
what you used to be and something has come between 
us. I don’t feel any more that we’re the most im- 
portant things in your life — as I used to.” 

He shook his head grimly. “ You’re all more im- 
portant than ever, if you only knew it.” Manson had 
a faint sense of injustice. It was for them he was 
wading through depths of anxiety. “You’re shortly 
going to get the surprise of your life,” he added with 
a note of triumphant conviction. 

“ Is it money? ” she said slowly. 

He nodded. “ Yes, a pile of it.” 

“ I don’t want any more money, Peter, I’d sooner 
have you.” The little woman’s voice was very plead- 
ing. 

“ Look here, Barbara,” he exploded, “ I’ve made 
nearly thirty thousand dollars out of real estate. I got 
the money, you understand, but the game was too stiff 
and took too much time, so I put that and what else I 
could raise into stock — in Toronto. I’ve already 
made twenty thousand more, that’s fifty, and the last 
twenty was without any effort or time on my part. 
I’ve only got to leave it alone for another year, and 
I’ll pull out with an even hundred thousand and retire 
and devote the rest of my time to you and the children. 
Isn’t that fair enough ? ” 

“ Do you say that you ha' r e already made fifty thou- 
175 


THE RAPIDS 


sand dollars ? ” She was staring at him with startled 
and incredulous eyes. The sum staggered her. 

“ Yes,” he chuckled contentedly. 

She put her arms around his neck. “ Then, Peter,” 
she implored, “ stop now. It’s enough — it’s marvel- 
ously more than I ever dreamed of. Oh ! we can be so 
happy.” 

He shook his head. “ Tve set my mind on the even 
hundred. Can’t you stand another year of it? ” 

“ I can, but not you,” she implored. “ You don’t 
know how you’ve changed. Peter, I beg you.” 

“ I’ve got to leave that fifty where it is to make the 
next,” he said with slow stubbornness. “ I'll be the 
only man in St. Marys who was wise enough to make 
hay when the sun shone. You needn’t be frightened 
for me.” 

“ I’m frightened for myself,” she answered shakily. 
“Won’t you do what I ask? Sometimes,” she ven- 
tured with delicate courage, “ sometimes a woman can 
see furthest — though she doesn’t know why.” 

“ A year from to-day you’ll thank me for sticking 
it out,” came back Manson stolidly. 

“ And if it shouldn’t turn out as you expect,” she 
replied with a look that was at once sudden and pro- 
found, “ you’ll remember that I begged and you re- 
fused.” 

The door closed noiselessly behind her and Manson 
stared at his desk with a queer sense of discomfort. 
Consolidated stock had moved up buoyantly on the 
news of the discovery of iron, and he had established 
for himself with his Toronto brokers the reputation of 
176 


THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS 


a shrewd operator who worked on the strength of in- 
side information. In front of him were Toronto let- 
ters asking that his agent be kept informed of develop- 
ments at St. Marys. It pleased him that this had been 
achieved outside his own town and without its knowl- 
edge, and he saw himself a man who was vastly under- 
estimated by his fellow citizens. But in spite of it all 
he was daily more conscious of a worm of uncertainty 
that gnawed in his brain. The thing was safe, ob- 
viously and demonstrably safe. Against his thousands 
others had invested millions with which to buttress the 
whole gigantic concern. And yet — ! 


XIV.— AN ANCIENT ARISTOCRAT VISITS 
THE WORKS 

O N a sunshiny day twelve miles down the river at 
the Indian settlement, old Chief Shingwauk, 
known in English as the Pine Tree, put on his best 
beaded caribou-skin moccasins and, motioning to his 
wife, moved slowly toward the shore where a small 
bark canoe nestled in the long reeds. A few moments 
later they slid silently up stream, the aged crone kneel- 
ing in the bow, a red shawl enveloping head and 
shoulders, her thin and bony arms wielding a narrow 
paddle with smooth agility. In the stern squatted 
Shingwauk, his dark eyes deep in thought. 

Slowly they pushed up current, pausing now and 
again to peer unspeaking into the woods, every ancient 
instinct still alive, though ninety years had passed since 
the old man and his wife were unstrapped from the 
stiff board cradles in which they once swung mummy- 
like in long forgotten camps. Shingwauk, his broad 
blade winnowing the clear water, reflected that this 
journey had been contemplated for many months, since 
first he heard that strange things were being done at 
the big white water, and now it was well to see for 
himself, for the time was approaching when he would 
not see anything any more. 

It was years since he had been at St. Marys and he 
was very old, so he worked up stream carefully, skirt- 
ing close to the shore in the back water, hugging every 
point and sheering not at all into the strong current of 
midstream. Thus for hours the canoe floated like a 
i 7 8 


AN ARISTOCRAT VISITS THE WORKS 


dry leaf in the unruffled corner of a hidden pool, and 
in it the ancient pair, dry themselves with the search- 
ing seasons of nearly a hundred years. 

For five hours they paddled, then the last bend in 
the river and St. Marys lay three miles ahead. Naqua, 
in the bow, reached up a withered hand, caught at an 
overhanging branch and their old eyes took in a scene 
familiar but yet strange. The sky line had changed, 
and up where the big white water crossed the river like 
a flat bar there was cause for wonderment. 

Presently Shingwauk tapped the thwart with the haft 
of his paddle and they glided on, past the lower end of 
the town with its new houses and gardens, past a street 
car that moved like a noisy miracle with nothing to 
pull it, being evidently animated by some devil en- 
chained, past Filmer’s dock where years before Shing- 
wauk and Naqua used to bring mink and otter and 
marten for trade; past other docks newer and larger 
and a town bigger than anything they had ever con- 
ceived, and opposite which sharp-nosed devil boats 
darted about or swung at anchor, across the deep bay 
that lay between the town and the big white water, till 
finally they floated near the block-house and Shing- 
wauk’s eyes, gazing profoundly at the massive propor- 
tions of Clark’s buildings, caught the narrow stone 
lined entrance to the little Hudson Bay canal. 

“ How,” he grunted. 

The canoe slid delicately forward till presently it 
floated in the tiny lock. Naqua said nothing, being 
seized by an enormous fear that clutched at her stringly 
throat and held her silent, but Shingwauk felt some- 
179 


THE RAPIDS 


thing stirring in his breast. Here, surrounded by the 
confused vibrations of the works, he resigned himself 
to ancient memories. Putting out a brown hand he 
touched the rough walls, and at the touch the years 
rolled back. He saw himself a young man, the bow 
paddle of a great thirty-foot canoe that came down 
through the broken waters of the big lake to the rapids 
above, with the Hudson Bay factor enthroned in the 
middle, surrounded by the precious takings of the 
winter. He saw O jibway faces, now long forgotten, 
and smelt the smoke of vanished camp fires. He saw 
the thirty-foot canoe lowered delicately into just such a 
lock as this, and automatically thrust out his own pad- 
dle to protect her tender tawny sides from the rough 
masonry. The hewn gates had opened when he floated 
out, and here were the gates looking non-understand- 
ably new, and with the adze marks still on the yellow 
timber. 

Involuntarily he cast about for the blockhouse and 
found it hard by. He looked at his own hands — they 
were knotted and wrinkled ; he scanned the twelve-foot 
canoe — it seemed small and hastily built of poor bark ; 
he stared at the back of Naqua and reflected how bent 
and rounded it was instead of being straight and strong 
and supple; he glanced up and where once there 
stretched green bush and small running streams now 
stood things bigger than he had ever seen; he sniffed 
at the wind and, without knowing what it was, caught 
the sharp odor of metal and machinery. Last of all, 
he lifted his gaze straight into the eyes of a man who 
stood staring down from the coping of the little lock. 
180 


AN ARISTOCRAT VISITS THE WORKS 


From the blockhouse window Clark had seen him 
since first the canoe approached the shore. With a 
curious thrill he had watched the old chief enter the tiny 
chamber and float motionless — a visitant from the 
past. So complete was the picture and so almost poign- 
ant the pleasure it afforded, that, loath to mar it, he 
had hesitated to approach. Never had he conceived 
anything so intimately appropriate as this linking of 
bygone days with the insistent present. 

They stared at each other, Clark’s keen features suf- 
fused with interest, Shingwauk’s black eyes gazing 
lustrous from a dark bronze face seamed with innumer- 
able wrinkles. His visage was noble with the proud 
wisdom of the wilderness and the unnamable shadow 
of traditions that went back through uncounted cen- 
turies of forest life. Clark, recognizing it, felt 
strangely juvenile. Presently Shingwauk, with some 
subtle intuition of who and what was the man who 
stood so quietly, waved his hand. The motion took in 
the works, the blockhouse, the canal, in short the entire 
setting. 

“ You? ” he asked in deep, hollow tones. 

Clark nodded, smiling. “ Yes, me.” 

Shingwauk’s eyes rounded a little. “ Big magic,” 
he said impressively and relapsed into silence. 

“ Hungry ? ” asked Clark presently. 

The old chief did not reply, being too moved by 
strange thoughts and the rush of memory to feel any- 
thing else, but Naqua lifted a withered head in the bow. 

“ Much hungry,” she croaked shrilly. 

Clark laughed and signaled to the blockhouse, where 
181 


THE RAPIDS 


the Japanese cook waited, peering from a window. 
Presently the latter came out carrying a tray. His 
narrow eyes were expressionless as he laid it on the 
masonry beside the canoe. Shingwauk glanced at him, 
puzzled over the flat, oriental features for a moment, 
and looked away. He seemed but a minor spirit in this 
great mystery. The old woman ate greedily, but her 
husband had no desire for food. He was experiencing 
a transition so breathless that it could but mark the day 
of his own passing. He waited till Naqua finished 
such a meal as she had never seen before, his face gaunt 
but his eyes large and profound with the shadow of un- 
speakable thoughts. Presently he dipped his blade in 
the untroubled water, and the canoe backed out of the 
lock. 

“ Boozhoo! ” he said slowly, with one long look at 
Clark. 

“ Good-by ! Come again.” 

The penetrating gaze followed the pigmy vessel as it 
dipped to the larger stretch of the bay, dwindling with 
the glint of two blades that flashed with clock-like regu- 
larity in the afternoon sun. Soon it reduced to a speck 
and was out of sight. Clark turned to his office, still 
contemplating the dignity of his visitor, the stark sim- 
plicity of this arcluean aristocrat. How soon, after 
all, he pondered, might not he himself and his works 
look aboriginal beside the achievements which science 
had yet to unfold to the world ? Then, glancing across 
the river, he stepped down to the dock and struck over 
in a fast launch. 


XV.— CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


I T is probable that Clark’s invasion of the State of 
Michigan made more impression on the people of 
St. Marys than any other of his activities, even though 
it came in the midst of great undertakings. Here was 
the definite impression of a central power that stretched 
octopus arms from out of their own town. Even Man- 
son, who was recognized as the champion pessimist, 
seemed impressed. But St. Marys remained for the 
most part still inactive. The people looked on, admired 
the works, discussed each new development, read much 
about their home town in outside papers, and that was 
in a general way about all. They saw in Clark a con- 
stantly more arresting and suggestive figure. They 
had nodded approvingly when he secured a private car 
for the use of himself, his directors and shareholders, 
and considered it a natural thing when it was an- 
nounced that he was building upon the hill a large and 
expensive residence. The blockhouse, they pointed 
out, had long since become too small to accommodate 
his many and important visitors. 

St. Marys had physically changed. Old streets 
were paved with asphalt and new ones opened. The 
car line that ran up to the works branched out across 
the railway into ground that a few years before 
was solid bush, but was now covered with substantial 
houses, occupied by a new population. Parts of old 

183 


THE RAPIDS 


St. Marys were left in the lurch because the owners 
refused to sell, Dibbott amongst them, and Worden, 
whose broad river-fronting lawn was surrounded by 
the commercial section of the rejuvenated town. Fil- 
mer’s store had been enlarged twice, and so complete 
was the popularity of the mayor that, with his sound 
business instinct, it still held place as the local em- 
porium. 

At the terminus of the car line a new town had 
sprung up. In Ironville dwelt the brawn and bone of 
the works. The place was not restful like St. Marys, 
but a heterogeneous collection of sprawling cabins, cor- 
ner saloons and grocery stores where the food was piled 
on sidewalk stands and gathered to itself the smoke 
and grime of the works when the wind came up from 
the south. Here were the Poles and Hungarians and 
Swedes, with large and constantly increasing families, 
and to them the sun rose and set in pulp mills and 
machine shops, blast furnaces and the like. They were 
mostly big men and strong, who sweated all day and 
came back, grimy, to eat and then spend the long eve- 
nings at the corner saloons or fishing in the upper bay, 
or sometimes taking the car down to St. Marys, and 
walking about surveying the comfortable old houses 
and carefully kept lawns. And of Ironville, St. Marys 
did not think very much, save that it was dirty and un- 
attractive and, unfortunately, quite a necessary evil. 

Back in the country new farms were cleared on 
heavily timbered land and the farmers found instant 
market for all they could raise. But the bush still 
stretched unbroken a little further to the north, and 
184 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


while Clark’s engineers spent millions to harness the 
mighty flow of Superior, the beaver were building their 
dams in a tamarac swamp not five miles from the 
works. 

All this was indissolubly linked wth Philadelphia. 
Parties of shareholders, large and small, came up in 
special cars to inspect the plant. These visits were 
well organized. They found everything going at full 
blast, everything was explained by the magnetic Clark 
and there followed banquets at the new hotel, when 
both shareholders and directors spoke and Fflmer 
voiced the sentiments and pride of the town, and the 
shareholders went away a little staggered by the size 
and potentiality of their business but determined to 
back Clark to the limit and carrying away with them 
ineffaceable impressions of his strong and hypnotic per- 
sonality. It was, after all, as they said, a one man 
show. 

Interest grew in Philadelphia, and thousands, 
swayed as though by the compelling voice of the rapids, 
plunged deeper. The discovery of iron was but one 
of the inviting incentives which, from time to time, 
stimulated support. Million after million was sub- 
scribed and sent to this man who inspired such abound- 
ing faith in himself and his gigantic plans. It may 
be that in one of those moments of profound insight 
which Clark periodically experienced, he became finally 
convinced that life was short and there must be, in his 
case at any rate, compressed into it the maximum of 
human effort ere the day ran out. His brain oscil- 
lated between the actual work itself and those ex- 

185 


THE RAPIDS 


traneous affairs which might at some time affect it. 

Amongst those to whom his attention turned was 
Semple, member of the provincial parliament, in whom 
he recognized the official voice of the district in cer- 
tain regions of authority. As the works grew in size 
and their importance increased, Semple found himself 
more and more the subject of attention. It flattered 
him, as well it might, for at this time the Consolidated 
Company was the largest single undertaking in the coun- 
try. It did Semple good to refer to “ my constituency ” 
with the reflection that in the midst of that wilderness 
was an undertaking whose capital surpassed that of the 
greatest railway in the Dominion. In the house of 
parliament he was listened to attentively, and in St. 
Marys his office took on a new significance. It was 
on one of his informal visits to the works that Clark 
expressed pleasure at the way in which the community 
was represented. 

“ I’m all right as far as this company is concerned,” 
said Semple, “ but you know the Liberal majority in 
Ontario is mighty slim — and I'm a Liberal. It’s 
here to-day and gone to-morrow.” 

“ Not for you,” answered Clark impressively, “ and 
you haven’t had much trouble in getting what we 
wanted.” 

“ No,” grinned Semple, “ our majority is too small. 
The Premier couldn’t very well refuse. But,” he 
added with a little hesitation, “ opinions differ down 
there.” 

“ About the works? ” 

Semple nodded. “Yes, and about you — they’re 
1 86 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


not true believers by any means, you must understand.” 

Clark grunted a little. “ What do they say?” 

“ It’s more what they don’t say, since they’re mostly 
Scotch. I mean the financial crowd — most of To- 
ronto is like that. The Scotch got their hooks in long 
ago and it was a good thing for the country. They 
reckon it should take twenty-five years to build up a 
concern like this — not five. You’re too fast for that 
lot.” 

“ Ah ! Perhaps I’d better go down and see them.” 

Semple gazed in astonishment, then concluded he 
had not made the other sufficiently aware of the criti- 
cism as to himself and his affairs that was now so 
widely spread. 

“ What’s the object?” he blurted; “you’ve got all 
you want.” 

Clark shook his head. “ You don’t understand me 
— and these people don’t understand their own coun- 
try, — that’s all. They don’t believe it because they 
don’t know it. They’ve never tried to know it. To 
Toronto the district of Algoma is a howling wilder- 
ness where there’s good fishing and shooting. You 
may call Canadians pioneers, but some of them are the 
stickiest lot imaginable. I’m an American, but I have 
more faith in their country than they have.” 

“ Just what do you propose to do ? ” 

“ What would you say was the most influential body 
of business and financial men? ” 

“ The Toronto Board of Trade — without question; 
bankers, and, by the way, the president of your bank 
here is the president of the Board; manufacturers, 

187 


THE RAPIDS 


brokers, commission men, — oh, most every one who 
is worth anything.” 

“ Then I’d better go and talk to them. There ought 
to be some Canadian money in this concern and there 
isn’t a cent. The only thing we got in Canada was 
one hundred and thirty thousand dollars — but that 
was debt — St. Marys’ debt — ” laughed Clark. 
“ We’ll get some Canadian directors, too ; I don’t know 
but that new blood would be good for us.” 

“ Well,” hazarded Semple, “ I’d like to be there.” 

“ You will. We’ll go together as soon as it’s ar- 
ranged. You ought to be there. They’ll probably ask 
you to confirm what I assert.” He touched a bell and 
a moment later said to his secretary, “ See Mr. Bowers 
and ask him to get in touch with our Toronto solicitors 
at once. I want them to arrange that I address the 
Toronto Board of Trade as soon as convenient to that 
body. I’ll speak of developments in Northern On- 
tario. You understand that this will not be a sugges- 
tion from me, but will come from them. Get the 
idea going in the Toronto papers. You might let it be 
known that a special car will leave for St. Marys the 
evening of the address — with the Company’s guests 
— that’s all.” 

The door closed and he turned again to Semple. 
“ I’m no prophet, but I don’t mind saying that a month 
from to-day your Conservative opposition won’t be so 
stiff necked. Man alive! it’s nothing but ignorance. 
This district of yours — ” he added very slowly, “ is 
a bigger, richer thing than even I imagined.” 

Semple went away shaking his head doubtfully. He 
1 88 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


knew better than Clark that chilling regard with which 
Toronto financiers contemplated an undertaking in 
which they had little faith. They were a cold-nosed 
group, immune, he considered, to the dramatic and 
strangers to any sudden impulse. And Clark, to their 
minds, was tarred with the same brush as his under- 
takings. He might be big and imaginative, but he 
was over impetuous and haphazard. 

Clark himself was disturbed by no discomfort, nor 
did he make any special preparations for that address, 
and gave it as arranged some two weeks later, and the 
manner and substance and effect of it will be vividly 
remembered by every man who was a member of that 
Board of Trade some twenty-five years ago. There 
were the bankers and the rest of them, just as Semple 
had said, and Clark, surveying them from the platform 
with steady gray eyes, knew what make of men they 
were and knew also that they had come there not so 
much with a thirst for knowledge about their own 
country as that they might coldly analyze him and 
that vast undertaking of which they had, as yet, but a 
fantastic and fragmentary knowledge. 

It is without question that the speaker had to an 
infinitely greater extent than any of the men who 
stared at him through a blue haze of cigar smoke, a 
fluid mind and the capacity for instantly seizing upon 
a situation and determining how to meet it. He pos- 
sessed as well a voice unrivaled in magnetic power 
and above all an unshakable faith in the potentiality 
of the district in which he labored, so that, estimating 
the mental and professional characteristics of those he 
189 


THE RAPIDS 


faced, Clark began to talk in the coolest and most level 
way possible without any trace of flamboyant enthusi- 
asm. Touching first of all on the development of the 
far West, a subject with which, since much Toronto 
money was involved, they were directly familiar, he 
diverted to St. Marys, describing Arcadia as he found 
it, the apparently unpromising nature of the surround- 
ing territory and his own conclusion as to its possible 
future. Then the rapids became woven into his speech, 
the nucleus of power which made so many things pos- 
sible. From this he moved into the wilderness and be- 
fore his listeners there began to unroll the north coun- 
try in its primeval silence, broken only by the occa- 
sional tap of a prospector’s pick or the heavy crash 
of a moose through a cluster of saplings. And with 
the story of the wilderness came that of pulp wood and 
great areas now tributary to St. Marys. And after 
the pulp mills came the discovery of iron. 

At this a stir went through the audience. In an- 
other part of the north country was Cobalt, that prodi- 
gious reservoir of silver, and it was realized that while 
Cobalt lay almost next door to Toronto, the Canadian 
investor had for the most part looked on incredulously, 
till, too late, he realized that the American had seized 
and acted with characteristic energy. And now the 
thing had happened again. 

“ The iron was there,” went on Clark’s voice with 
a subtle and impelling note, “ and it only took a year or 
so to find it. The country was unexplored, that is, in a 
scientific manner, and no geological maps worth any- 
thing were in existence. We have proved by now not 
190 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


less than fifteen million tons of excellent ore. The 
formation near St. Marys carries an abundance of lime- 
stone and the rapids furnish ample power. I think 
you will admit, gentlemen, that this is non-speculative.” 

Then one by one he spoke of various phases of the 
works. In every case the product was there — the 
merchantable produce — to prove the point; and the 
evident fact that Clark was actually selling goods over 
his gigantic counter, coupled with the cool confidence 
of the man, was all that was needed to convert an au- 
dience of critics into one of friendly believers. 

He saw the change as it took place. His voice lifted 
a little and became that of one crying in the wilderness. 

“ What I have been able to do any man can do. If 
you don’t believe in it, other people do; if you don’t 
develop it, other people will. From Canada we have 
moved across to Michigan and are developing power on 
the south side of the river. You Canadians could have 
done all this. In a few months Canadian railways 
will be buying steel rails made of Ontario ore, but the 
rails will be made and sold by Americans in Ontario. 
Gentlemen, all I ask is that you have faith in your own 
country, as much faith as has been shown by your 
neighbors across the line. Your Dominion is now 
what the United States was fifty years ago and we 
did not waver. The capital of our allied companies 
is twenty-seven million dollars. It comes, every cent 
of it, from Philadelphia. We do not need your money, 
but will welcome any who wish to join us. Once again, 
gentlemen, and last of all, have faith in your own 
country! ” Then, with a graceful acknowledgment of 
191 


THE RAPIDS 


the assistance of Semple and the Ontario Government, 
he sat down. 

For a moment there was silence, till came applause, 
moderate at first, as befitted the meeting, but swelling 
presently into great volume. Louder and deeper it 
grew while Clark sat still with the least flush on his 
usually colorless cheek and a keen light in his gray 
eyes. He had touched them to the quick, touched them 
not only by his own evident faith and courage, but also 
by his superlative energy and the inexorable compari- 
son he had made. It was true! Cobalt was nearly 
lost to them, and now the iron of Algoma had passed 
into other hands. Old bankers and financiers cast their 
minds back and were surprised at the number of simi- 
lar instances they recalled. And here was Clark, the 
protagonist, Clark the speculator, Clark the wild man 
from Philadelphia, demonstrating in the cold language 
to which they were accustomed and which they per- 
fectly understood, that he had done the same thing 
over again and on a more imposing scale than ever be- 
fore. 

The denouement was what he had anticipated and 
what invariably takes place when men with calculating 
and professionally critical brains are for the first time 
profoundly stirred by a supremely magnetic spirit that 
appeals not to their emotions but to those instincts in 
which the memory of lost opportunities is effaced by 
confidence in future success. There was, too, a general 
feeling that Clark in the past was misunderstood. 
They had been hard on him. It was strange for men 
who were daily besought to invest in this or that to be 
192 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


told that their money was not asked for ; that, as Clark 
had put in — the job was nearly done, capital expendi- 
ture nearly over and steady returns about to begin. 
And these returns, they reflected, would go straight out 
of the country to Philadelphia. All this and much 
more was moving through their minds when the presi- 
dent moved a vote of thanks which was tumultuously 
carried, whereupon Clark announced that the private 
car would leave that night for St. Marys, and that he 
and Mr. Semple would accompany such visitors as cared 
to spend a day or two at the works. 

That afternoon he sent a short letter to his mother. 
“ I have been giving a talk on Toronto — it went quite 
well/’ he wrote in closing. “ Canadians do not attract, 
but certainly interest me. There’s much underneath 
that needs work to discover, and I have so little time 
for work of that kind.” 

He glanced at the last sentence and nodded approv- 
ingly. Perhaps Canadians were too Scotch to be spon- 
taneous. They were worthy, he admitted, but the word 
implied to him certain attributes that made life a little 
difficult, and, he silently concluded, a little cold. He 
would have desired them to be a trifle less deliberate 
and a shade more responsive. He felt that, however, 
he might persuade they would never fundamentally un- 
derstand him, and perceived in this the cause of that 
condescension he had observed in so many Canadians 
toward the American. It did not worry him in the 
slightest as an American. He put it down to that self- 
satisfaction which is not infrequently acquired by self- 
made men in the process of their own manufacture, and 
193 


THE RAPIDS 


to remnants of that cumulative British arrogance of 
forebears who had for centuries led the world. 

Early next morning the private car swung through 
the mining district of Sudbury. Clark’s Toronto visi- 
tors were still asleep, but he was up and dressed and on 
the rear platform. The district, covered once by a 
green blanket of trees, now seemed blasted and dead. 
Close by were great piles of nickel ore, from which 
>Iow clouds of acrid vapor rose into the bright air. 
Clark knew that the ore was being laboriously roasted 
in order to dissipate the sulphur it contained, prior to 
further treatment. 

The scene, naked and forbidding, struck him forci- 
bly, and the great mining buildings towering in the 
midst of the desolation they had created looked like 
ugly castles of destruction. He had noted the place 
often before, but this morning, refreshed by the inci- 
dents of the previous day, his mind was working with 
unexampled ease and insight. Here, he reflected, two 
things of value — sulphur and vegetation — were be- 
ing arduously obliterated. It suddenly appeared 
fundamentally against nature, and whatever violated 
nature was, he held, fundamentally wrong. 

The train stopped for a few moments and, jumping 
from the platform, he ran across to the nearest pile. 
Here he picked up several pieces of ore fresh from the 
mine, inhaling as he stood the sharp and killing fumes. 
At St. Marys he made but one kind of pulp — me- 
chanical pulp — in which the soft wood was disin- 
tegrated by revolving stones against which it was 
thrust under great pressure. But he had always de- 
194 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


sired to make another kind of pulp, so now he thrust 
the ore samples in his pocket and climbed back into 
the private car. 

Two days later the chief chemist of the works stood 
beside the general manager’s desk looking from the 
nickel samples into Clark’s animated face. 

“ These are from Sudbury,” the latter was saying, 
“ where they waste thousands of tons of sulphur a year, 
and it costs them a lot to waste it. I want the sulphur 
to make sulphite pulp.” 

“ Yes? ” The reply was a little uncertain. 

“ To buy what we want is out of the question at the 
present price. In Alabama and Sicily they are spend- 
ing a lot of money to get sulphur; in Sudbury they’re 
spending a lot of money to get rid of it. The thing 
is all wrong.” 

“ Have we any nickel mine, sir? ” 

“ No, but that’s the small end of it. I want you to 
analyze this ore and see if you can devise a commer- 
cial process for the separation of nickel from sulphur 
and save both. If you can, I’ll buy a mine. Inci- 
dentally we’ll produce some pretty cheap nickel. Get 
busy ! ” 

The chemist nodded and went out, and Clark, glanc- 
ing after him, fell into profound contemplation. He 
himself was neither engineer, chemist nor scientist, but 
had a natural instinct for the suitable uses of physical 
things. Thus, though without any advanced technical 
training, his brain was relieved from any consciousness 
of difficulties which might be encountered in the work- 
ing out of the problems he set for others with such 
195 


THE RAPIDS 


remarkable facility. He was, in truth, a practical ideal- 
ist, who, ungrafted to any particular branch of effort, 
embarked on them all, radiating that magnetic confi- 
dence which is the chief incentive toward accomplish- 
ment. 

The visit of the Toronto financiers had been a suc- 
cess. Clark went round with them, unfolding the his- 
tory of the works. Nor was this by any means the 
first tour he had made with similar intent. It was now 
an old story with him to watch the faces of men reflect 
their gradual surrender to the spell of his mesmeric 
brain. What the Torontonians saw was physical and 
^concrete, and, as their host talked, they perceived the 
promise of that still greater future which he had put 
before them. Here, they decided, was not a specula- 
tion, but an investment of growing proportions. Then 
from the works to the backwoods by the new railway, 
where was iron by millions of tons and pulp by mil- 
lions of cords, the foundations on which were built the 
gigantic structures at St. Marys. So they had gone 
back in the glow of that sudden conversion which 
in its nature is more emotional than the slow march 
of a purely intellectual process. Clark smiled a 
little at the thought. He had seen it all so often 
before. 

A little later a knock sounded at his door and 
Fisette entered, stepping up to the desk, one brown 
hand in his pocket. Clark glanced at him. 

“ Well, mon vieux? ” 

The half-breed laid on the desk half a dozen pieces 
of bluish gray rock. They were sharp, angular and 
196 


CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO 


freshly broken. Through them ran yellow threads, 
and floating in their semi-translucent depths were fine 
yellow flakes. 

“ Gold,” said Fisette quietly. 


XVI.— GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


C LARK stared at the fragment of rock with a sud- 
den and divine thrill. Gold ! the ultima thule of 
the explorer. He had erected vast works to gain gold, 
not for himself for he desired no wealth, but for others, 
and here the precious thing lay in his hand. His 
heart leaped and the blood rushed to his temples while 
his eyes wandered to the impassive face of Fisette. 
Who and what was the breed that he could be so calm ? 

Out of a riot of sensations he gradually reestablished 
his customary clearness of vision. Here was additional 
evidence of the inherent wealth of the country. It 
was that for which men dared death and peril and 
hardship, and it struck him that it would be a dra- 
matic thing to ship steel rails and pulp and gold bul- 
lion on the same day. 

But for all of this he was not carried away. How- 
ever great the thrill, his mind could not be diverted by 
the discovery of a quartz vein. He knew, too, that 
mining of this character was a tricky thing and that 
nature, as often as not, left the shelves of her store- 
houses empty when by all the rules of geology they 
ought to be laden. He would explore and develop the 
find, but its chief value, he ultimately decided, was 
psychological, and would be seen in the continued sup- 
port of his followers. Presently he looked up and 
caught the disappointed eyes of Fisette. 

198 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


“ It’s all right, mon vieux,” he said with an encour- 
aging smile, “ and it’s very good. How far from the 
railway? ” 

“ About six mile. ,, Fisette’ s voice was unusually 
dull. 

“ And you have it all staked and marked and dated ? ” 

“ Yes, I’m not one damn fool.” 

Clark laughed outright. “ Of course not — but lis- 
ten — you remember when you found the iron last year 
what I told you? ” 

“ You told me to keep my mouth shut. I keep it.” 

“ That’s right. And now I want you to keep your 
mouth open.” 

Fisette gasped. “ What you mean ? ” 

“ I mean this. You told nobody about the iron, now 
you go and tell everybody about the gold. Shout 
about it. The more you tell the better. The whole 
town can prospect on our concession if they want to. 
I hope every one of them will find gold. I’ll come out 
myself next week and see what you’ve turned up, and 
of course you get for it what I gave you for the iron 
last year. Au revoir, mon vieux, and when you go to 
town, talk — talk — talk! But just wait a minute in 
the outside office.” 

Fisette backed silently out, his dark brow pinched 
into puzzled wrinkles. He had expected his patron to 
take the samples and stare at them and then at him 
with that wonderful look he remembered so well and 
could never forget; a look that had made the breed 
feel strangely proud and happy. He had often 
seen it since when, quite alone in the woods, he peered 
199 


THE RAPIDS 


through the gray smoke of his camp fire and imagined 
his patron sitting just on the other side. And now he 
was to go into St. Marys and do nothing but talk! 
He shook his head doubtfully. 

No sooner had the door closed than Clark sum- 
moned the superintendent of his railway depart- 
ment. 

“ Fisette has found gold out near the line. There’s 
going to be a rush, and you’d better get ready for it. 
Also you’d better run up some kind of an hotel at Mile 
61, — it’s the jumping off place. That’s all — please 
send Pender here.” 

A moment later he turned to his secretary. 

“ Fisette is waiting outside. Talk to him, he’s found 
gold. Get the story and give it to the local paper. 
Say that I’ve no objection to prospectors working on 
our concession, and that I’ll guarantee title to anything 
they find. Get in touch with the Toronto papers and 
let them have it too. That’s all.” 

The door closed again and, with a strange feeling 
of restlessness, he walked over to the rapids, seat- 
ing himself close to their thundering tumult. What 
message had the rapids for him now ? And just as the 
voice of irresistible power began to bore into his brain 
he noticed a girl perched on a rock close by. Simul- 
taneously she turned. It was Elsie Worden. 

She waved a hand, and he moved carefully up stream 
over the slippery boulders. She looked at him with 
startled pleasure. It was unlike Clark to move near 
to any one. 

“ I hope I’m not trespassing.” 

200 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


“ No,” his voice came clearly through the roar of 
many waters; “ do you often come here? ” 

She smiled. “ It’s the most conversational place I 
know.” 

The gray eyes narrowed a little. “ You have dis- 
covered that the rapids talk back? ” 

“ They have told me all kinds of things ever since 
I was a child. When did you find it out?” Elsie’s 
voice lifted a little. 

“ The very first day I reached St. Marys, almost the 
first hour.” He was wondering inwardly why he 
should talk thus to any one. 

“ I’m so glad,” she answered contentedly, “ because 
they must have told you to do many things, and you’ve 
done them. But I can’t half answer what they say 
to me.” 

Clark studied her silently. Her face was not only 
beautiful but supremely intelligent, and had, moreover, 
the signet of imagination. She was, he concluded, 
utterly truthful and courageous. 

“ I wonder you get time to come here at all,” she 
hazarded after a thoughtful pause. 

“ It is time well spent.” He pointed to the heaped 
crests in midstream. “ The solution of many a prob- 
lem lies out there; I’ve got one to think of now.” 

Had Elsie been an ordinary girl she would have dis- 
appeared forthwith, but between them sped something 
that convinced her that he wanted her to stay. 

“ Am I allowed to know what it is ? ” 

“ It’s this.” Clark took a fragment of rock from 
his pocket and laid it in her palm. 

201 


THE RAPIDS 


“ What is it? ” she said curiously. 

“ Gold! ” 

“ Oh ! ” The color flew to her cheeks and her eyes 
became very bright. “ Where did it come from and 
who found it ? ” 

“ About sixty miles from here, and Fisette found 
it — he’s one of my prospectors.” 

“ He’s the man who discovered iron for you? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How very extraordinary,” she said under her 
breath. 

“ Why should it be?” 

“ The last time we talked you had just found iron, 
and now it’s gold. This is even more wonderful, isn’t 
it?” 

He shook his head. “ It’s pretty — but not nearly 
so important.” Something in the girl’s manner at- 
tracted him strangely and he went on talking as he 
seldom talked. Her eyes never left his face. 

“ Yes,” she said presently, “ I’m glad to understand. 
But the strange thing to me is that all these people,” 
here she pointed towards the works, “ are doing things 
they would not have done if you hadn’t come. Why 
is that?” 

“ Some people think that the most successful man 
is the one who gets others to work the hardest for 
him,” said Clark, smiling. 

She shook her head. “ That doesn’t suit. I know 
what it is.” 

“ Do you?” 

“ It’s vision.” There was a thrill in her low voice. 


202 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


Then she added, very swiftly, “ You haven’t many 
friends, have you, Mr. Clark?” 

He stared at her in surprise, and in the next instant 
decided that she was right. “ Why do you ask that ? ” 

“ Because you must see past most people, don’t you, 
to what is ahead? It is hard to put just what I mean 
into words.” 

He nodded gravely. “ It is quite true that I 
haven’t any very close personal friends, I’ve moved 
about too quickly to make them. As for my em- 
ployees, I see them chiefly through their work.” 

“ Then you don’t really know them,” she announced. 

“ Possibly, — but I know their results. It sounds 
a little inhuman, doesn’t it ? ” 

“ I think I understand.” Elsie was tempted to probe 
this gray-eyed man about Belding, but presently gave 
it up. She was conscious that while she was talking 
to Clark the figure of the engineer faded into the 
background. 

“ So there’s really no one ? ” she went on reflectively. 

“ Only my mother,” he said gravely, “ that is, so 
far.” 

At that her heart experienced a new throb. He 
was infinitely removed from any man she had ever 
dreamed of. 

“ Are you never lonely? ” 

“ Perhaps I am,” he replied with utter candor, “ but 
I fill my life with things which to most people are in- 
animate, though to me they are very much alive. And 
what about yourself?” 

“ I don’t know.” Her voice was a little unsteady. 

203 


THE RAPIDS 


She had a swift conviction that Clark was essentially 
kind, as well as a great creator. “ You want this, 
don't you? " She held out the piece of ore while the 
flakes of gold shone dully in the sun. 

“ Please keep it, the first bit out of what I hope will 
make a mine. And I hope you will have iron as well 
as gold in your life." 

She glanced at him genuinely touched. “ Can it 
really matter to you ? " 

“ Why shouldn’t it? ’’ 

“ The first time I met you I was a little afraid of 
you." 

Clark chuckled. “ Am I so formidable ? ’’ 

“ Not to me any more. Perhaps it is because we 
understand the same things." She pointed to the 
rapids. “ This, for instance." 

“ Would you tell me just what you hear out there." 

She shook her head doubtfully. “ There are no 
words for most of it, but I seem to catch the voices of 
things that want to be expressed somehow." Then, 
with sudden breathlessness, “ It’s a universal language 
— like music." 

“ That’s it," he said soberly, “ it has all the majors 
and minors." He regarded the girl with quickening 
interest. What was the elemental note in her that re- 
sponded to this thundering diapason ? 

“ It’s a voice crying in the wilderness," she con- 
tinued in the same low tone, then, with a smile, “ at 
least it was a wilderness before you came. I wonder 
if you would do — " she broke off suddenly, her eyes 
brilliant. 


204 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


“ Tell me, and I’ll do it.” 

She clapped her hands. “ I wish you would visit 
us all Ivhen we go camping next month; you’d like it.” 

“ I’m sure I would, but — ” 

“ But what? I knew there’ d be something.” 

“ I’d have to take the works with me.” 

“ But you said you’d do it.” She glanced at him 
as though confidence were shattered. 

“ Then I will, if it’s humanly possible.” 

“ It will be about a hundred miles down the lake, 
near Manitoulin Island. Father knows.” 

“ I’m glad father knows,” he smiled. 

The girl walked slowly back with the feeling that 
she had seen further into the heart of this remarkable 
man than ever before. Opposite the blockhouse, at 
which she looked with a strange sensation, she met 
Belding, swinging in from the far corner of the works 
with a transit over his shoulder. She seemed thought- 
ful and distrait, and he glanced at her puzzled. 

“ Been exploring ? I didn’t know you were coming 
up.” 


“ I didn’t know either,” she said a little nervously. 
“ Will you come back to lunch? ” 

“ Sorry, I’m too busy. Where have you been ? ” 

“ Over at the rapids. And, Jim, see what Mr. 
Clark gave me.” 

“ Gold ? ” he said sharply. 

“ Yes, isn’t it wonderful? ” 

“ Who found it? ” 

“ One of Mr. Clark’s prospectors, Fisette.” 

“ And who told you ? ” 


205 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Mr. Clark himself.’ , The girl had a sudden sense 
of discomfort. Why was Belding so inquisitive? 

“ I haven’t heard anything about it,” he said shortly. 

“ No one has outside of the office, except myself.” 

“ But why should Clark tell you? ” 

“ I don’t know. Why shouldn’t he ? ” 

Belding thrust the legs of his instrument into the 
ground. “ I have an idea that he’s telling you too 
much.” The young man’s eyes were hot with resent- 
ment. 

“ Jim, how dare you! ” 

“Well, where do I come in? You haven’t been 
much interested in me the last year or so.” 

She flushed. “ That’s not fair. You know how 
fond I am of you.” 

“ But Clark doesn’t need you — and I do.” 

“Do you object to my having friends?” she said 
tremulously. 

“ Elsie, will you marry me to-morrow ? ” Belding’s 
voice was shaky but in deadly earnest. 

“ What nonsense.” 

He shook his head. “ It isn’t to me, — I mean it. 
There is no one else. There never will be. Can’t you 
realize that ? ” 

“ I don’t want to be married — now — ” she said 
slowly. 

He snatched up his transit. “ Thanks, I thought 
it would come to that.” He took off his hat very 
formally and strode on. In his angry brain burned 
the thought that the sooner Clark came to grief, 
the sooner Elsie would get rid of this illusion. And 
206 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


then, as always, the brave and loyal soul of him sent 
out a silent protest. 

By now the wires were humming, and through St. 
Marys the news ran like quicksilver. In years past 
there had been individual discoveries by wandering 
bushmen, but none of them of value. Tales were 
afloat that old Shingwauk down at the settlement knew 
of a gold bearing vein, and that the knowledge would 
die with him. But at the formal announcement that 
the Consolidated had found gold, it was universally be- 
lieved that it was of a necessity a bigger and better 
thing than ever before, and carried with it all the repu- 
tation of Clark’s immense undertaking. 

So began the rush to the woods. It was not one 
in which tender feet deserted their jobs and took to the 
hills, but a stirring amongst the stiff bones of old pros- 
pectors who had given up the fight but were now 
infused with new courage. In Fisette they saw the 
man who had won out for the second time while 
they sat and smoked. There was a seeking out and 
sharpening of picks blunted by inumerable taps on for- 
gotten ridges, and a stuffing of dunnage bags, and a 
sortie to Filmer’s store for flour and bacon and a few 
sticks of forty per cent, dynamite, and patching of leaky 
shoe packs. Twenty-four hours later the little station 
up at the works was crammed with men whose leathern 
faces were alight with an old time joy, and whose eyes 
sparkled with the flame of a nearly extinguished fire. 
After them came others from greater distance, then 
peddlers and engineers representing mining firms in 
search of properties, and keepers of road houses where 
207 


THE RAPIDS 


the lamps burned all night, and there were women and 
songs and whiskey that flouted the peace of the forest. 
And with all this the traffic returns of the Consoli- 
dated Company’s railway leaped up, and Fisette, who 
was in charge of a dozen men stripping his find of 
roots and earth and moss, began to hear all round him, 
both near and far, the dull thud of blasting and the 
faint clink of hammer on steel. 

But it was a month before the general manager’s 
private car slid into the siding at Mile 61, where Clark, 
descending, found Fisette waiting for him, and to- 
gether they stepped out for the discovery. Here and 
there along the trail other prospectors fell in silently be- 
hind. They wanted to see Clark when he got the first 
glimpse of the vein. Arriving a little breathless, he 
looked down at the bluish, white streak that nakedly 
crossed a little ridge, dipped to a ravine on either 
side, and reappeared boldly further on. Fisette picked 
up samples from time to time, at which his patron 
glanced, and finally, taking mortar and pan, crushed 
a fist full of ore and washed it delicately, till a long 
tapering tail of yellow metal clung to the rounded angle 
of the pan. And at that Clark asked a few questions 
of the mining engineer who had come with him, nodded 
contentedly and started back, leaving Fisette with the 
pan still in his muscular hands. 

That night the breed squatted by his camp fire, too 
offended to smoke and wondering dumbly why his 
patron had left so soon and said so little, for this was 
a day to which he had looked forward for weeks. He 
did not dream that Clark was even that moment think- 
208 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


ing of him as the private car clicked evenly over the 
rail joints on the way to the iron mines. And this 
indeed was the case, for in the first tide of the rush of 
gold seekers Clark had discerned the workings of an 
ancient rule. Always it had been gold which inflamed 
the human mind to endure to the uttermost. His im- 
agination went back, and he saw the desperate influx 
heading for California, for Australia, for South Africa, 
that mob of adventurous spirits for whom there burned 
nightly over the hills the lambent promise of the mor- 
row, strengthening and invigorating to further effort. 
He saw this mob lose itself in forest, mountain, plain 
and canyon, a wild-eyed herald of civilization. He 
saw roads and bridges, farms and villages take form 1 
along the trail it traversed, till, slowly but inexorably, 
the wilderness was conquered, and the sons of the pio- 
neers sat in contentment under their own roof-tree in 
full possession of a wealth greater by far than that 
their ancestors had come to seek. But it was gold with 
its yellow finger that first beckoned the way. 

Next day, at the iron mine, he stood listening to 
the deep cough of the big crusher and the loose rattle 
of machine drills. A little on one side, and as yet 
unshaken by dynamite, was the knoll on which Wim- 
perley and the rest had been told what they were sit- 
ting on, and he smiled at the recollection. Surveying 
the widening excavation, he reflected that here, after 
all, was the heart of the entire enterprise. In fifty — 
in a hundred years — the mine would still be un- 
exhausted. It did not seem romantic like Fisette’s vein 
of gold ore, this barren-looking upheaval, but to him 
209 


THE RAPIDS 


the romance of a thing was in its potentiality and not 
its appearance, and it moved in his mind now that 
there was every reason for haste. Philadelphia was 
beginning to weary of capital expenditure, and de- 
manded an output of steel rails at the earliest possible 
moment. 

Completing his round with a visit to Baudette’s 
headquarter camp, he inspected train loads of pulp 
wood ready for the mills. The areas originally se- 
cured were nearly denuded and Baudette was forced 
further afield. The mills were doing and had always 
done well, but their profits were so instantly absorbed 
by allied and interlinked undertakings that Clark at 
times wondered whether he was asking one dollar to 
do too much. He reflected with a touch of surprise 
that the small company formed to supply St. Marys 
with water and light was, after all, the only one which 
from the first had actually disbursed dividends. But 
the rail mill would settle all that. Returning to the 
works he found a note on his desk that Townley, the 
chemist, would like audience. He sent for him. 

“Well?” he demanded impatiently; “what about 
that sulphur? ” 

Townley submitted a condensed report. “ We can 
get it out at a cost of about half the market price.” 
He spoke with a note of triumph. He had been slaving 
over the problem with the sacrificial zeal that charac- 
terizes all keen chemists. But Townley did not know, 
and it was impossible for him to know, that many 
things are feasible in a laboratory which are irreducible 
to commercial terms. 


210 


GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL 


Clark nodded as though he expected this. “ Bring 
Belding in here.” 

When the engineer appeared, he went on, “ We’re go- 
ing to do something new. Townley will give you his 
end of it, and you work out the rest. It’s chemical 
engineering, so get any assistance you need. Give me 
estimates of costs and say how soon the plant can be 
put up. Figure on a hundred tons of sulphite pulp 
per day — dry weight. That’s all.” 

The two went out, and he leaned back, pressing his 
finger tips hard on his lids, and finding in the red blur 
that followed something that soothed and rested his 
eyes. He was not one who sought out problems and 
chased them to their solution, but rather one who per- 
ceived the problem and, by singularly acute vision, per- 
ceived also the solution just behind it. There were so 
many things that were overlooked by others but pre- 
sented themselves to him for attention, that he had 
long since ceased to wonder why the world was full 
of men he considered ineffectual. Now he ran rapidly 
over the existing situation, marshaling his various 
undertakings in due order, when there sounded in his 
head something that seemed like the tearing of a piece 
of cloth. He drew a long breath, experiencing for the 
first time in his life a sense of intolerable weariness. 
And then, suddenly he thought of Elsie. 

It was strange that he should think of her now — 
there were so many other and insistent things. Wim- 
perley and the rest had come up to congratulate him 
and gone away elated but at the same time puzzled that 
he should regard the discovery with such apparent in- 
2 1 1 


THE RAPIDS 


difference. It was true that creditors were becoming 
pressing, but the rail mill, it was universally admitted, 
would pull the thing through. Now a reaction set in 
and he longed for a little solitude. It lay in his mind 
that just over the horizon was something more invit- 
ing than all that had taken place. 

An hour later he was in the bow of a big tug, head- 
ing down stream, having left orders that he must not be 
disturbed. As the green landscape slid by he gave him- 
self over to retrospection, and his mind wandered com- 
fortably back through all the stages of the past years. 
Surveying the folk of St. Marys, he concluded that 
only Filmer and Bowers had been active supporters 
from the start. He would remember that. Came a 
voice at his elbow. It was the master of the tug. 

“ Where to, sir? ” 

“ A hundred miles from here there’s a camping party. 
Find them.” 

They anchored that night in a long and narrow in- 
let where the trembling reflection of the tug’s funnel 
lay beside the mirrored tops of pine trees that clung 
to the rocky shore. Ahead and behind was the open 
lake. There was no sound but the twitter of sleepy 
birds and the honk of a startled heron that winged its 
flight to solitudes still more remote. Then Clark began 
to fish, and, just as he landed a five pound bass, a girl’s 
voice sounded clearly while a canoe floated round a 
nearby point. Elsie was in it and alone. 


212 


XVII.— THE GIRL IN THE CANOE 


S HE stared at him with undisguised astonishment. 

“ Good evening,” he laughed. “ Here I am ! ” 
The girl grew rather pink. “ Isn’t it wonderful that 
you really found us ? ” 

“ I didn’t, the captain found you.” 

“ It’s hard to think of you as — well — just here.” 
“ I came down for a day or two off. For the first 
time in years, I’ve forgotten all about the works.” 

“ I’m glad, and do you — ” 

At that instant there came from between Clark’s feet 
a mighty thump, and the big bass, curving its spiney 
back, leaped clear of the boat and landed in the brown 
water with a splash. A flip of the broad tail and it 
vanished. 

“ You’ve lost your fish! ” exclaimed Elsie, aghast. 

“ Perhaps you lost it, but it doesn’t matter.” 

“ Is that the way you feel, just slack and careless? ” 
“ Just like that.” 

“ I knew you had a mind above fish,” she laughed. 
“ That’s a distinction, because few fishermen have. 
Now I’d like to thank you again for your note of a 
few weeks ago.” 

“ Do you really remember that? ” she said earnestly. 
He nodded, and over him came a slow conviction that 
there was an avenue of life he had never traversed and 
which seemed to be, after all, more inviting than he 
213 


THE RAPIDS 


had allowed himself to believe. Elsie was years 
younger than Clark, but just now the latter felt 
strangely young. 

“ Do you recollect finding out that I had but a few 
personal friends ? ” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“ Well,” he said thoughtfully, “ I would like an- 
other.” 

“ Oh ! ” She stared at him, her startled eyes full 
of light. 

“ You don’t mind, I hope? ” 

The canoe drifted like a leaf towards his heavy boat, 
but Elsie’s paddle was motionless. 

“ It would make me very happy. But could I really 
do anything for you? It has always seemed that,” 
she hesitated and her lips became tremulous, “ that you 
didn’t need any one.” Then she added under her 
breath, “ like me.” 

Clark’s face was grave. “ And if I did? ” 

She looked at him with growing fascination. Sur- 
rounded by the gigantic things of his own creation he 
was impressive, but here in the solitudes he took on even 
more suggestive characteristics. She stretched out a 
slim brown hand. 

“ You will find me very difficult sometimes, I warn 
you now.” 

“ I like difficult things, they seem to come my 
way.” 

The languid hours sped by. Clark swam, fished, 
paddled with the girl, entertained her party in the tug’s 
white painted saloon, and chatted with Mrs. Dibbott, 
214 


THE GIRL IN THE CANOE 


the chaperon, about St. Marys. But most of all he ex- 
plored the mind of Elsie Worden. It was like opening 
successive doors to his own intelligence. She startled 
him with her intuition, delighted him with her keen sense 
of humor, and seemed to grasp the man’s complex na- 
ture with superlative ease. And, yielding to her 
charms, Clark, for the first time in his life, felt that 
he must go slow. It was a new country to him. 
Previous experience had left no landmarks here. 

They were drifting lazily along the shore, miles from 
the others, when Elsie, after a long pause, glanced at 
him curiously. 

“ Will you tell me just what you find in music? ” 

“ But I don’t know anything about it.” 

“ Perhaps not, but you feel it, and that’s what 
counts. I’ve only heard you play twice.” 

“ Once,” he corrected. 

“ No, I was out on the bay one night, below the 
blockhouse, when you were playing.” Belding’s name 
was on the girl’s lips but at the moment Belding did 
not fit and she went on evenly, “ It is something like 
the rapids.” 

“ I’m glad you think that. It’s the response that 
one gets.” 

“ That’s what I feel. You’re an American, aren’t 
you?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I thought so. You see your people are more re- 
sponsive than we are, and you don’t seem so ashamed 
of enthusiasm.” 

“ We can’t help it, but it’s a little awkward some- 

215 


THE RAPIDS 


times,” his eyes twinkled, “ that is in Canada. Now 
talk about yourself.” 

“ There’s so little to say. I was asleep for years 
like every one else in St. Marys, till you came and 
woke us all up. 

“ And then ? ” 

“ I realized that life was rather thin and that I 
wanted a lot of things I’ll never get.” 

“ Why never, — and what do you want? ” 

“ To be part of something bigger than myself,” said 
the girl very slowly. 

Clark felt an answering throb. That was what he 
had felt and wanted and achieved. 

“ To feel what the world feels and know some- 
thing of what the world knows,” she added intensely. 
“ I want to work.” 

“ That sounds strenuous.” 

She flushed a little, “ Won’t you take me seriously? ” 

“ I beg your pardon. As a matter of fact I’ve al- 
ways taken you seriously.” 

“ Have you, why? ” 

“ Perhaps because I don’t know anything about your 
sex,” he answered teasingly. “ I never had time, — 
they’re sealed books to me.” 

“ So this is your first exploring trip ? ” 

“ The very first, — and it’s not at all what I ex- 
pected.” 

A question moved in Elsie’s eyes but she did not 
speak. Clark, taking in the supple grace of her figure 
and expanding to the candor of her spirit, wondered 
if now, at the apex of his labors, the color of his fu- 
216 


THE GIRL IN THE CANOE 


ture life was being evolved by this girl who was as 
free and untainted as the winds of Superior. He had 
at times attempted friendships of another kind and 
found them unsatisfying and pondered whether this 
might not be the human solution of that loneliness 
which he had admitted to her, months before, was only 
so far assuaged by driving himself to the uttermost. 
Then her voice came in again. 

“ It was so queer meeting you here, just as if the 
voice of the rapids had carried a hundred miles. I 
always associate you with the rapids.” 

“ But they’ll go on forever, and I won’t.” 

“ You’re doing something better than that,” she said 
swiftly. 

He laid down his paddle. “ I’d like very much 
to know just what my new friend means.” 

“ You’re touching the hidden springs of things that 
will go on forever.” Elsie’s voice was vibrant with 
feeling. “ That’s the difference between you and other 
men I know. You’re in the secret.” 

Clark drew a long breath. “ When did you decide 
that, and why ? ” 

“ When I heard about your speech that first night. 
I was only seventeen then but I felt almost as if you’d 
told me the secret. So I’ve followed all you’ve accom- 
plished since, and I would give anything to have done 
just the littlest part of it.” 

“ So it’s just a matter of recognizing one’s destiny 
and following it? ” he said curiously. 

“ Just that.” Complete conviction was in her tones. 

“ Then, for the first time in my life, I’m wondering 
217 


THE RAPIDS 


what destiny has in store for the immediate future,” 
he said with a long stare of his gray eyes, and in them 
was that which set her heart throbbing. 

“ You must go to-morrow? ” she ventured. Could 
such wonderful moments ever be repeated ? 

“ Yes, at sunrise, and I’ll be at the works at noon. 
Do you know that you’ve done a lot for me? It’s a 
selfish remark, but it’s true, and may we have another 
talk when you get back? ” 

Her lips trembled, and Clark, gazing at her, felt 
an intense yearning. She was very beautiful and very 
understanding. Then again he hesitated. There were 
things, many things, he had in mind to arrange before 
he spoke. A few weeks would make no difference, but 
only prolong those delightful and undecipherable sensa- 
tions to which he now yielded luxuriously. If this 
was love, he had never known love before. 

The sun’s red orb was thrusting up over the glassy 
lake when, next morning, the big tug with a slow thud- 
ding of her propeller, moved from her anchorage. At 
Clark’s orders they passed on down the channel, and 
just where the lake began to broaden was a cluster of 
white tents. Two Indians were warming their fingers 
at a rekindled fire. Clark stared hard, and lifted his 
hat. 

One of the tent flaps had been opened, and a girl 
stood against a snowy background, her hair hanging 
loose. As the tug drew abreast she waved good-by, 
and, for another mile, till he swung round the next 
point, he could see the slim figure and its farewell salu- 
tation. There was something mystical about it all. 

218 


THE GIRL IN THE CANOE 


The girl vanished abruptly behind a screen of trees, 
the propeller revolved more rapidly, and the sharp 
swish of cleft water deepened at the high, straight bow. 

He stood for a long time immersed in profound 
thought, and oblivious of the keen air of early morn- 
ing. Never before had he found it hard to go back 
to duty. 

Six hours later the tug swept into the St. Marys 
River, and three miles ahead lay the works, the vast 
square-topped buildings rising, it seemed, out of the 
placid waters of the bay. He drew a long breath and 
emerged from fairyland. Had he created all this? 
Yet it was not more real than something he had just 
left and had also created. 


XVIII.— MATTERS FINANCIAL 


T HE young manager of the local bank through 
which Clark transacted his affairs sat late one 
night in his office. He had just returned from dinner 
at the big house, where he left his host in an un- 
usually genial and communicative mood. It seemed 
that Clark’s mind, tightened with the continued 
strain of years, had wished to slacken itself in an 
hour or two of utter candor, and Brewster had lis- 
tened with full consciousness that this was an occasion 
which might never be repeated. But in his small 
cubicle, walled in with opaque glass, Clark’s magnetic 
accents appeared to dwindle before the inexorable 
character of the statement Brewster now scrutinized. 
It was the detailed and financial history of each suc- 
cessive company, a history in which birth and bones 
and articulation were clearly set forth, and what struck 
the young man most forcibly was the extraordinary 
way in which each was interlinked with the rest. The 
combined capital of all was, he noted, twenty-seven 
million dollars, and greater than that yet reached by 
the Canadian Pacific Railway. Brewster had known 
it before, but the bald and cumulative figures in front 
of him made the fact the more momentous. 

Probing still deeper, it became apparent that while 
the pulp mills made steady profits, these were so ad- 
justed as to form but one link in a chain. In all there 


220 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


were some ten companies, each drawing from the others 
its business and its surplus. Clark had not been far 
wrong when he reflected that he might be asking one 
dollar to do too much, and now the sharp brain of the 
young manager was coming to the same conclusion. 
Behind his office building passed Clark’s steamships, 
for there was a transportation company, and into the 
wilderness Clark’s trains plunged with unfailing regu- 
larity. Up at the works the blast furnaces were vomit- 
ing flame and smoke, and the rail mill was nearly com- 
pleted. Baudette was sending down train loads and 
rafts of wood, and at the iron mine dynamite was lift- 
ing thousands of tons of ore. The entire aggregation 
of effort and expenditure had been so systematically 
interwoven that Brewster there and then decided that 
if one link in the chain should part, the whole fabric of 
the thing would dissolve. It was true that he made no 
advances without authority from his headquarters, but 
he had long been aware that Clark’s was the largest 
commercial account in Canada and, he reflected gravely, 
it all went through his own office. Two days later he 
reached Toronto, and asked audience of his general 
manager. 

Now since this record is partly that of the relative 
standing of different individuals in the development of 
a little known district, consider Brewster in consulta- 
tion with Thorpe, the general manager of his great 
bank. Brewster was young, active, in close touch with 
Clark and his enterprises, enthusiastic, yet touched with 
a certain power of quick and ruthless decision. He 
had been interested and even thrilled by the doings at 


221 


THE RAPIDS 


St. Marys, but he had never yielded himself com- 
pletely to Clark’s mesmeric influence. Thorpe, a much 
older man and of noted executive ability, was one of 
those who by that noted address at the Board of Trade 
had been rooted out of long standing indifference and 
imbued with surprised confidence, and this translation, 
so rapid in its movements, still survived. In conse- 
quence, he listened to the younger man with a thinly 
veiled incredulity. 

“ I can’t quite see it,” he said thoughtfully, “ even 
from your own account. It’s probably the proportions 
of the thing that makes you anxious.” 

Brewster shook his head. “ No, it isn’t that. 
There’s a big power house on the American side and 
it didn’t earn a cent for a year, something wrong with 
the foundations, though it’s all right now. There’s 
the sulphur extraction plant that doesn't extract sul- 
phur, and — ” 

“ What? ” interrupted Thorpe. He, like others, had 
read of the new process with keen interest, and was 
anxious to learn details. 

“ It worked in the laboratory but not on a commer- 
cial basis. Belding, the chief engineer, is all cut up 
about it. Consequence is Clark is buying sulphur, and 
just now pulp prices are so low he’s not making any- 
thing out of it.” 

“ Have you seen Wimperley lately?” 

“ He was up with Birch a week or so ago.” 

“ Say anything particular ? ” 

Brewster smiled reflectively. “ He didn’t seem to 
want to talk.” 


222 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


“What are the obligations ? ” asked Thorpe after 
a little pause. 

“ Of all companies? ” 

“Of course.” 

“ About two millions as nearly as I can get at them.” 

“ And to us? ” 

Brewster handed over a slip of paper. “ This is a 
copy of what I forwarded yesterday.” 

The older man’s brows cleared a little. The com- 
bined overdraft was just over a hundred thousand, 
against which the bank held Philadelphia acceptances 
which he knew would be met. He glanced over the 
statement again. 

“ You’ve looked after this extremely well. Now 
what do you want me to do ? ” 

Brewster drew a long breath. “ I don’t want you to 
take my word for anything, but come up and see for 
yourself. Go into the woods and up to the mines and 
through the entire works — then come to your own 
conclusions. It may be I’m too near the thing to get 
the right perspective, but I give it to you as I see it.” 

Thorpe nodded. “I know you have and your 
branch has done extremely well.” 

“ Thanks.” Brewster laughed. “ That’s due to 
the man we’re talking about.” 

“ And supposing,” put in Thorpe thoughtfully, 
“ supposing the whole thing were to go smash ! What 
would you say?” 

The other man’s eyes rounded a little. “ I’d say,” 
he answered slowly, “ that even in that case the entire 
district would be in Clark’s debt.” 

223 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Yes? ” 

“ Because they know what’s in the country now and 
how to get it out — and they never knew that before.” 

“ And the immediate future — what do you see that 
depends on? ” 

“ Steel rails,” said Brewster with conviction. 
“ Will you come up ? ” 

Thorpe did go up, and Clark, who knew that Brew- 
ster had been in Toronto and conceived why, met them 
both at the works with a genuine welcome. He felt, 
nevertheless, that his undertakings were to be analyzed 
with cold deliberation. 

At the end of two days Thorpe had seen them all — 
had peered into the gray black bowels of the iron 
mine, watched Baudette denuding the slopes of a multi- 
tude of hills — seen the stamps in the gold mill ham- 
mering out the precious particles that were caught by 
great quicksilver plates, — seen booms and train loads 
of pulp on their way to St. Marys — seen the white 
spruce shaven of its brown bark and ground and 
sheeted and loaded into the gaping holds of Clark’s 
steamships — • seen the blast furnaces vomit their mol- 
ten metal — seen the rhythmic pumps and dynamos 
send water and light through every artery of the young 
city — seen the veneer mills ripping out flexible miles 
of their satiny wood — seen the power house on the 
American side making carbide to the low rumble of 
thousands of horsepower, and seen the electric railway 
that linked Ironville with St. Marys. And all the 
time Clark had put forward neither arguments in his 
own favor nor any request for credit, but only allowed 
224 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


these things to speak for themselves, till, as the aggre* 
gate became more and more rounded and the picture 
more complete, Thorpe perceived that here was some- 
thing which initiated by an extraordinary brain had 
now grown to such vast proportions that it supplied 
its own momentum, and must of necessity move on to 
its appointed and final result. 

But Clark did not distinguish in either Thorpe or 
Brewster any determining factor of his future. They 
would do what they were meant to do, and play the 
game as the master of the game decided. They might 
modify, but they would never create. His mind was 
pitched so far ahead that it was beside the mark to at- 
tempt to influence men who, he conceived, were not 
themselves endowed with any prophetic vision. 
He had to deal with them and he dealt with them, 
and though he wondered mutely at their abiding sense 
of the present and their apparent lack of faith in the 
inevitable future, he descended from the heights of his 
own imagination and parleyed in the bald and merci- 
less language of strictly commercial affairs. 

It was at the end of his visit that Thorpe asked 
about the sulphur plant. 

Clark glanced at him curiously. The sulphur plant 
was so small a fraction of the whole. 

“ There’s a certain step in the process we have not 
perfected — that’s all. You don’t believe in economic 
waste, do you? ” 

“ No, certainly not — if avoidable.” 

“ Well, I’m satisfied that this is avoidable. It is 
just as much a mistake to allow water to run away 
225 


THE RAPIDS 


when it might be grinding pulp, as it is to drive sulphur 
into the air instead of catching and selling it. You 
pollute the air, you kill the trees, you spend a lot of 
money, and you waste the sulphur. Nature has a lot 
of processes up her sleeve we’ve not realized as yet. 
This is one of them.” 

“ Then this plant is a mistake ? ” Thorpe gc£ it 
out with some hesitation. 

Clark laughed. “ Some of it — so far. I make 
plenty of mistakes, don’t you? It seems to me it’s the 
proportion his mistakes bear to the things that succeed 
which determines a man’s usefulness. I don’t believe 
in the one who doesn’t make them.” 

Thorpe grinned in spite of himself. “ Perhaps 
you’re right — but I’ll be glad to know as soon as 
you’re rolling rails. When do you expect that? ” 

“ In six months at the latest. I’ll send you a sec- 
tion of the first one.” 

The banker drove toward the station in unaccustomed 
silence. Presently he turned to Brewster. “ You 
were right and, by George ! Clark is right too, but we 
must not get our mutual rectitude mixed up. He’s got 
to go ahead, come what may, and we’ve got to help him 
all we reasonably can, but with us our shareholders 
come before his. That’s the point. He may turn out 
to be a private liability, but in any case he’s a national 
asset. I want a bit of that first rail. Good-by ! ” 

And Clark, after waving farewell at the big gates of 
the works, had gone into the rail mill and stood in the 
shadow in deep contemplation. He glanced at the 
massive flywheel, the great dominant dynamo and the 
226 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


huge, inflexible rolls. At one end were the heating 
furnaces, their doors open, and gentle fires glowing 
softly within to slowly raise the temperature of newly 
set brick. Around him was the swing of work directed 
by skilled brains, and machinery moved slowly into its 
appointed place of service. It was a good mill, he re- 
flected, for a second hand mill. For all of this the 
place was dead — awaiting the pulse of power and the 
unremitting supply of incandescent metal. Glancing 
keenly about, he experienced again that strange sound 
as though between his temples, and suddenly he felt 
tired. The thing was good, very good. But he too 
wanted to see the lambent metal spewed from between 
the shining rolls. 

It was a notable day in St. Marys when the first 
rail was actually rolled, and symbolical to many peo- 
ple of many different things. Infection spread from 
the words to the town, till all morning there was a 
trickling stream of humanity that filed in at the big 
gates and moved on toward the dull roar of the mill. 
Even though the mass of folk in St. Marys still failed 
to grasp the full significance of the event, they saw in 
it that which put their one time Arcadia beside Pitts- 
burg, and invested their own persons with a new sense 
of importance. 

Clark, watching the fruition of a seven year dream, 
felt thrilled as never before. Here, in this heat and 
mechanical tumult, was being forged the last link in 
the chain into which he had hammered his entire 
strength and spirit. It was a good thing, he reflected, 
to make pulp and ship it on his own steamships, but 
227 


THE RAPIDS 


this was the biggest, deepest and most enduring thing of 
all. Some men at such a moment would have felt 
humble, but he recognized only the unfolding of an ele- 
mental drama in which he played his own particular 
role. A few weeks later he closed a contract with a 
great railway company for a million dollars’ worth of 
his new product, which he unhesitatingly guaranteed 
would live up to the most exacting specifications. 

The new plant had settled down to the steady drive 
of work when the mayor of St. Marys, walking up 
the street in a mood of peculiar satisfaction, saw just 
ahead of him the bulky form of the chief constable. 
He stepped a little faster and laid a detaining hand 
on the broad shoulder. 

“ Arrest yourself for a minute,” he chuckled. 
“ How’s our town pessimist feeling this fine morn- 
ing?” 

Manson glanced sideways. “ I suppose you want to 
rub it in. Well, I don’t know that my opinions have 
changed very much.” 

“ Takes more than a few thousand tons of rails to 
move you, eh? But isn’t Mahomet going to come to 
the mountain at last? ” 

Manson shook his head. 

“If he doesn’t the mountain will come to Mahomet 
— and crush him,” continued Filmer gayly, then, his 
mood changing, “ but honestly, old man, why don’t you 
drop your gloomy views? You’ve an excellent chance 
right now, and, besides, they’re getting rather amus- 
ing.” 

“ I’ve a right to my own opinions.” 

228 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


“ Naturally, we all have, but you don’t 'act up to them 
— at least you didn’t.” 

Manson glowered at him with quick suspicion. 
“ What’s that?” 

“ Your left hand knows what your right hand 
doeth — every time, — at least it’s so in St. Marys. 
You’re too big to get under a bushel basket. Every 
one saw that you were dabbling in real estate for years, 
and made a good clean up, but you seemed so darned 
ashamed of it that no one cared to discuss it with 
you. And all the time you were our prize package 
disbeliever. What’s the use? It’s your own affair, 
but why don’t you make a lightning change like the 
man in the circus last week? Your friends would wel- 
come it. You’re not the man we used to know.” 

“If it’s my own affair,” came back Manson with 
growing resentment, “ why not leave it at that ? Did 
you never make any money out of a thing you didn’t 
believe in? ” 

“ Yes,” said Filmer slowly, “ I have, but after that 
I believed in it, and said so. It was only fair to the 
fellow behind it.” 

Manson went stolidly back to his square stone office, 
where he took out his broker’s statement for the previ- 
ous month and stared at it silently. Already he knew 
the figures by heart. Another two point rise in Con- 
solidated stock and he would realize his net profit of 
one hundred thousand dollars. He ran over his own 
scribbled figures on the back of the statement, as he had 
gone over them many times before. They were quite 
right. For weeks past his selling order had been in, 
229 


THE RAPIDS 


been acknowledged, and now at any moment the thing 
might be done. It might even have already been done. 
The blood rushed to his head at the thought. How 
many other chief constables, he wondered, had amassed 
fortunes from behind their forbidding gray stone 
walls? Then he thought of his wife and children, and 
his eyes softened, while the broker’s statement in his 
big hand trembled ever so slightly. He smiled at that, 
and it came to his mind that perhaps statements in 
other men’s hands .sometimes trembled at the thought 
of their wives and children and the fortunes that — 
and here Manson felt vaguely uncomfortable and, get- 
ting up, slowly locked his desk. 

Just at that moment, Filmer, who had returned 
to his office, was sitting staring at a half-section of 
steel rail that lay in his hand. It was smooth and 
highly polished, a thin slice of the very first product 
of Clark’s last and greatest undertaking. He experi- 
enced a quite extraordinary sensation at feeling the 
thing, and it snatched his mind back seven years till 
again in the Town Hall he heard a magnetic voice 
assuring the citizens that the town lacked just three 
essentials — experience, money and imagination, and 
that the speaker would supply them all. It was a far 
cry from that evening to the deep drone of the rail mill, 
and Filmer, detaching himself from the picture in which 
he formed a part, began now to perceive its dramatic 
vitality. Were Clark taken out the whole thing seemed 
to fall to pieces. 

And up at the See House, the bishop was examining 
just such another section of rail, while the gold of his 
230 


. ' ■ 

MATTERS FINANCIAL 

episcopal ring shone beside the gray of steel. To him 
it meant many things, but chiefly it was prophetic of 
that which would soon put an end to the detachment 
and loneliness of the scattered communities to which he 
ministered. Holding the thing thus, his heart went 
out to Clark, and he yearned with a great longing over 
the spirit of this man who so reveled in the joy of crea- 
tion. His eyes wandered to the Evangeline. She lay 
at anchor just off shore. A thin film of smoke slid 
from her funnel, and he could see the Indian pilot 
swabbing down her smooth teak decks. Then, in sud- 
den impulse, he smiled and, laying the rail section on 
top of a half finished sermon, wrote a short note, and, 
calling his man servant, instructed him to wait for an 
answer. 

A little later the note reached Clark in his office, 
where he sat motionless under the sway of a slight 
reaction. At the moment he did not want to work. 
He was continuously conscious of ribbons of red hot 
rails that streamed like fluted snakes from under the 
gigantic rolls, and they seemed to be boring their way 
into his brain. He had shipped thousands of tons to 
the railway company and there were thousands more to 
go. In a week or so he would get a formal acceptance 
of his product, and then — He stretched himself a 
little wearily and pressed his eyes till a red and com- 
pelling blur brought its transient solace. And just 
then his secretary came in with the bishop’s note. 

Dear Mr. Clark: 

I am off this afternoon for a five day cruise of visits 
amongst the islands of Lake Huron. Won’t you come with 

231 


THE RAPIDS 


me ? I know it would be good for me and think it might give 
you what I’m sure is a much needed rest. My Mercury, I 
mean the hired man, awaits your answer. 

Yours faithfully, 

James, Algoma. 

P. S. I never attempt to proselytize my guests. 

For a moment he puzzled over the signature, and 
finally made out that it was the bishop’s Christian 
name followed by that of his diocese, for this was the 
first letter he had received from the prelate. Then he 
felt a sudden throb of impulse. He had a natural 
liking for the bishop and this, with his insatiable ap- 
petite for new experiences, prompted an acceptance. 
Fie touched the bell, and his secretary reappeared. 

“ I am going away for five days,” he paused, adding 
with a smile — “ on missionary work. I haven’t any 
idea where we are going and don’t want to be disturbed. 
I’ll be back before we receive the results of the United 
Railway Company’s tests. That’s all.” 

It was mid-afternoon when the Evangeline, gliding 
smoothly over the polished surface of the bay, drew in 
towards the Consolidated dock, and Clark, watching 
from the shadow of a mountain of bales of pulp as- 
sembled for shipment, saw the Indian pilot amidship 
at the wheel and the bishop, in a big, coarse, straw hat, 
standing in the slim bow, a coil of rope in his hands 
and a broad smile on his big sunburnt face. 

“ Catch! ” The bight of the rope whistled through 
the air and struck smartly at his guest’s feet. 

The latter laughed, picked it up and made fast. It 
struck him suddenly that it was curious the bishop 
232 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


should be throwing him a rope. Then he reflected that 
it was the bishop and not himself who needed help. 

The former was very gay, his kindly face alight with 
amusement and anticipation. Presently came a throb 
from the engine room, and the Evangeline sheered off 
down the river, past the new St. Marys where staring 
red brick buildings shouldered up out of the old time 
houses, past the See House, while a flag fluttered jerkily 
down from the tall mast at whose top it flew when the 
bishop was at home, past the American side, where 
Clark’s big power house stretched its gray length at the 
edge of the river, and on till they came to the long 
point that closes the upper reach, and just then both 
men turned and looked up stream at the vanishing bulk 
of the huge structures beside the rapids, and the flat line 
of tremulous foam that marked the rapids themselves. 
The voice of them was, at this distance, mute. 

The yacht glided on and still neither spoke. Clark 
was full of the thought that, for the second time in 
seven years, he had deliberately left his work. Four 
hours ago the thing would have seemed grotesque, but 
glancing at the bishop’s broad back, he realized that 
here was a friendly interceptor to whom he had been 
wise to yield. The miles slid smoothly by, and still 
neither talked. Each was busy with the contented re- 
flection that in the other he had found one who pos- 
sessed the gift of understanding silence. 

The Evangeline rested that evening not far from 
where Clark had anchored so recently. He sat mo- 
tionless, breathing in the welcome benison of the spot, 
till the Indian pilot put out port and starboard lamps 
233 


THE RAPIDS 


whose soft red and green shone steadily into the gath- 
ering dusk. 

“ Is there a mission here ? ” asked the visitor pres- 
ently. 

“ No, but there’s the best bass fishing in Lake 
Huron,” grunted the bishop placidly, already busy with 
rods and bait. “ The mission is ten miles on. Now 
we’re going to catch our breakfast — there’s an excel- 
lent spot just opposite that big cedar.” 

Clark had not fished much, but he loved it, like 
most men of intellect, and discovered that he had 
been steered straight into the best fishing he had ever 
known. They were small mouthed bass, deep of belly 
and high of back, and they fought in the brown water 
over the twitching minnows that dangled from the 
Evangeline bow and stern. 

“ I’m glad you came.” The bishop smoothed down 
the spines of a big three pounder ere he gripped it. 

“ Best thing I ever did. Fishing is a clerical pursuit, 
isn’t it? ” 

The bishop nodded without turning his head. 
“Yes, but it’s not always for money. We have to 
bait our hooks according to the season of men’s minds. 
By the way, some of my best friends are in your coun- 
try.” 

“ Yes?” 

“ Had a church in Chicago for ten years, — there at 
the time of the great fire — it stopped a few blocks from 
my house. I had to marry a devoted couple a day or 
two later and the wedding fee was a bunch of candles. 
Glad to get them; whole city in darkness and it seemed 
234 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


suitable that the parson’s house should reflect light. 
You remind me of one of my friends at that time.” 

“ Why and how ? ” said Clark. He knew so little of 
himself as appearing in other people’s minds. 

“ This man was a big Chicago importer — look out, 
you’ve got another bass — and he was in New York 
at the time of the fire — heard his warehouses were 
threatened and bought trainloads of stuff and rushed 
it through. It arrived while the other stuff was still 
smoking, and he made much more than he — My dear 
sir, that’s the best fish of the evening, let me look at 
him.” 

Clark laid the twitching body of a bass on the teak 
deck, while the big man came aft, trailing his bait and 
slowly reeling up his line. As the minnow glimmered 
in towards the yacht’s black side, there came a heavy 
plunge, the bishop’s rod bent double, and the line sang 
off his reel. He was a famous fisherman, and Clark 
watched him admiringly. To every ounce of pliant 
bamboo on his six ounce rod there was, down in the 
brown water, a pound of savagely fighting weight. 
Deeper went the big fish and further, but ever the 
taut line yielded by fractions, and the nearly doubled 
rod kept up a steady insidious strain. As the bass 
dashed back, the bishop recovered his nearly spent line 
while his lips pressed tight and the light of battle 
shone in his large eyes. For a quarter of an hour the 
fight lasted, till the great fish floundered once or twice 
with heavy weariness on the surface, and the angler 
worked him toward the yacht. Then a bare brown arm 
shot a landing net underneath his horny shoulder and, 
235 


THE RAPIDS 


with a dexterous twist, the Indian pilot landed him 
on the deck in a thumping tangle of line, leader and net. 

“ And that,” said the bishop with a deep sigh of con- 
tent, “will do. We’ve got supper and breakfast as 
well.” 

The night deepened, and in the little saloon host and 
guest sat down to a supper of fried fish, blueberries 
and cream. The small, red curtains were drawn, and 
over the tiny fireplace a binnacle lamp glowed softly. 
Forward in the bows, the Scotch engineer and the In- 
dian pilot sat conversing in deliberate monosyllables, 
and in the east a horned moon floated just clear of 
the ragged tops of encircling pine trees. Clark ate 
slowly and felt the burden slipping from his shoulders. 
It was a strange sensation. Across the narrow table 
towered the bishop, the genius of the place. He was 
still reminiscent of American experiences and talked 
as talks a man who is comfortably sure of himself and 
his companion. 

“ I don’t believe I have any very close personal 
friends,” said Clark presently. “ I’ve moved about 
too quickly to make them. One meets people in the 
way of work, and so far as my own employees are 
concerned, I see them chiefly through their work. I 
can’t let the personal element intrude.” 

The bishop smiled, remembering something similar 
he had said himself. “ Well, I must say I’m particu- 
larly drawn to Americans. Perhaps it’s because they 
suit the Irish, but I seem to find in them a certain in- 
tellectual generosity one recognizes at once and appre- 
ciates. There aren’t so many fences to climb 
236 


over. 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


And, besides, they appear to understand my cloth.” 

“Yes?” Clark looked up, keenly interested. He 
had not thought much about the clerical profession. 

“ It’s quite true. They realize that a parson is a 
man of like predilections and impulses and weaknesses 
with themselves, and that a cassock does not stifle the 
natural and healthy ambitions of the male mammal. 
Nothing is more trying for the cleric than to be put 
aside as though he were some emasculated ascetic who 
was unattracted by merely natural things.” 

“ I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“Very few people have, except the cleric; and he 
thinks of it a good deal. There is even the tendency 
to believe that the parson, because he is a spiritually 
minded man, is incapable of horse sense in practical 
and public affairs. By the way, don’t you smoke ? ” 

Clark smiled and shook his head. “ I’ve never 
wanted to.” 

“ I did once,” chuckled the prelate. “ It was a big, 
black cigar inside a hedge about three miles out of 
Dublin. I’ve never smoked since. Now, if I may go 
back to the clerical question, you’ll probably realize that 
a great many mistakes are made.” 

“ I hadn’t thought much about that either.” 

“ Probably not, but it’s without question that a good 
many parsons realize in a year or so that they’re not 
up to their job, especially if it’s a city congregation. 
The young and over enthusiastic rector addressing a 
church full of shrewd, experienced men of affairs is 
often in a grievous case. I’ve sat in the chancel and 
listened and writhed myself. There’s many a poor 
237 


THE RAPIDS 


parson who would make a good engineer, and he knows 
it.” 

“Then why shouldn’t he change over?” Clark 
was getting new avenues opened for him in hitherto 
unexplored directions. 

“ Because he’s ashamed to, and the world has the 
habit of thinking that the man who has once been a 
parson is not available for anything else. Suppose 
one of my missionaries came to you for a job — what 
would happen ? ” 

“ I’d send him to you for a letter of recommendation 
and then put him to work.” 

“ I believe you would, now, but not a month ago.” 

“ That’s quite possible.” 

“ Well, you have no conception that envy may, and 
sometimes does, exist in a black coated breast.” 

“ But why envy? ” 

“ Because devotion to one cause does not stifle nat- 
ural aspirations in another. For instance I’ve often 
longed for time to do some writing, on my own ac- 
count. One of my traveling preachers has invented 
a railway switch and I know he dreams of it arid makes 
sketches on the margin of his sermons. No, my dear 
sir, the public has doubtless classified us, and possibly 
correctly, but we are still fanciful, and — ” the bishop 
hesitated and broke off. 

“ Go on, please.” Clark’s gray eyes were very pene- 
trating and understanding. 

“ Possibly I’ve talked too much about the parson, 
but there’s one thing that is often denied him and he 
longs for it intensely — companionship with his fellow 
238 


MATTERS FINANCIAL 


men. The sacrifice of that one thing hurts more than 
any other privation. And now that this one-sided 
symposium on the parson must have taxed your good 
nature, let’s go to bed. We lift anchor at seven- 
thirty, and I go over the side at seven. There’s fifteen 
feet of water here and a sandy bottom, and if you 
like we’ll get a few more bass first. Good night! I 
think you’ll find everything you want in your cabin. 
Sleep well.” 

A little later Clark stepped out on deck and breathed 
in the ineffable serenity of the scene. A ray of moon- 
light lay along the inlet like a silver line. As he 
went down to his cabin he noticed that the other’s door 
had swung open. Inside the bishop was kneeling by 
his narrow bunk, his face buried in his hands, his 
broad shoulders bent forward in prayer. Clark’s 
breath came a little quickly at the strangeness of it all 
and, moving on tip toe, he turned the handle softly. 
In his own cabin, he lay for an hour staring out of the 
porthole at the dim world beyond. He tried to think 
of the works, but they receded mysteriously beyond the 
interlocking branches of the neighboring pines. They 
seemed, somehow, less imposing than formerly, and 
Wimperley and Stoughton and the rest of them were 
a long way off. There came to him the lullulant lap- 
ping of water along the smooth black side of the Evan- 
geline. Presently he dropped into the abyss of sleep, 
dreamless and profound. 


XIX.— THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


T HE sun was shining level through the tree-tops 
when they began to fish. In fifteen minutes the 
bishop called a halt, dipped a bucket of water and 
washed his hands. Clark, still under the spell of this 
new friendship, saw the great amethyst of the episco- 
pal ring gleaming softly amid the glint of fish scales, 
and dimly remembered the story of the Man and the 
Galilean fisher folk whose catch was poor till He told 
them where to cast. Presently the bishop stripped and 
went overboard into the brown water with a clean 
schloop, where he was instantly followed by his guest. 

Here they played like schoolboys, shouting and blow- 
ing in utter physical abandonment, while the copper col- 
ored pilot stared at them with expressionless eyes and 
wondered mutely why people wanted to get so wet. 
The bishop was like an otter, swimming under water 
a long way to reappear with a sharp whistle in an un- 
expected place. Soon the first flush of Clark’s enjoy- 
ment passed. He felt suddenly tired and turned to- 
ward the Evangeline, where a small wooden ladder had 
been let down just athwart the cabin cockpit. And in 
that instant he felt a sharp and agonizing pain. 

“ Help ! ” he called. “ Help ! ! ” A deadly stiffness 
was stealing from foot to knee. 

The bishop heard, rolled over on his back and, tread- 
ing water, saw Clark’s face. The lips were puffed out, 
240 


THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


the head bent back and he was splashing desperately. 

“ Hang on to it, I’m coming,” roared the big man, 
and, laying his right shoulder forward, began to tear 
through the water. Like a tug he came, with a bub- 
ble of foam around his head, half his face submerged, 
his powerful arms and legs working like pistons. Such 
was the power in him that at each stroke his great body 
seemed to lift and fling itself forward, and behind him 
broadened a long, diamond shaped ripple that slid whis- 
pering to the shore. The next moment sounded a voice, 
as from a long way off : 

“ Put your arms straight out — rest your palms 
on my shoulders. When I turn, trail your body and 
don’t try to do anything. That’s it.” The bishop 
was breathing hard, but not in any way distressed. 

They moved toward the yacht and Clark felt beneath 
his hands the working of big, flexible muscles, and the 
buoyant surge of the practiced swimmer who glides with 
the minimum of effort and resistance. In five minutes 
he was scarifying his skin with a rough towel and 
tingled with renewing circulation. 

“ You saved my life that time,” he said earnestly. 

The bishop pulled his shirt over his head. “ Well, 
that’s my business, isn’t it? and I fancy it’s about the 
only thing I can do for a man like you. Let’s have 
some breakfast. I smell fish.” 

Clark, in spite of his late experience, ate as he seldom 
ate, for there were two things at which Indian Joe was 
a master — pilotage and cooking. The visitor asked 
for more, silently deciding hat his Japanese must go, 
being no such artist as t 

I 

\ 


THE RAPIDS 


“ You’re using royal silver,” said his host presently 
with a grin. “ I bought this boat from the agent of a 
certain august personage for whom she had grown 
too small, and I got everything complete. She has a 
bronze propeller and copper rivets. I’ve got the royal 
burgee too, and fly it only on special occasions.” 

The other man smiled and nodded. It did not some- 
how seem strange to him to be using royal silver in a 
remote bay on Lake Huron. Something about the 
bishop made it appropriate. Then they lifted anchor 
and the Evangeline moved on under a climbing sun and 
over a laughing sea for ten miles till she nosed into a 
creaking dock and made fast. Just beyond was the 
settlement, from which the parson came hurrying down, 
followed by others. Clark looked at him, a lean, over- 
worked man, with rusty clothes and joy in his face, 
and remembered for the first time in his life that here 
was one fashioned in all ways like unto himself. 

“ I’m off into the country to visit for a few hours,” 
said the bishop, introducing him. “You can come if 
you like, but it’s not a good road, and I would advise 
you to stay where you are. Joe will take you fishing 
and there is plenty to read in the bookshelf. I can 
recommend Henry Drummond or Marcus Aurelius. 
Good-by! ” 

He drove off in a rattling buckboard, and the woods 
swallowed him. A little crowd had gathered in the 
dock, glancing after the bishop and then down at the 
slender deck of the Evangeline. The stranger looked 
up at them, nodded ?- ' Tsappeared. Presently Joe 
stretched an awnir long boom of the main 


1 


THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


mast, and Clark sat in the shade listening to the silence 
and surveying this isolated village. What, he won- 
dered, could keep people in so forgotten a community, 
with its unpaved street, its straggling wooden houses, 
its background of unbroken bush. There was no water 
power, no big timber, and, from the look of the coun- 
try, no mineral. He put the thought out of his mind 
with luxurious deliberation and tried to decipher why 
a man like the bishop should waste his time here when, 
without doubt, he could be a shining light in a great 
city. After a little the reason became clear, and, smil- 
ing to himself, he reached up for Marcus Aurelius. 

They supped that night at the parsonage, where they 
yielded to the stark simplicity of new surroundings. 
The parson with his wife and children regarded the 
bishop with their eyes in which love and reverence were 
clearly mingled. At the stranger they looked a little 
insecurely, for the bishop Had, that afternoon, told who 
he was. They had heard of him already, and in this 
remote village his person had been invested with mys- 
terious powers. He was a force of which they read, 
rather than a living, breathing man, so that however 
he might try to talk affably and communicably, he 
found himself hedged about with a spiny growth of 
fame that the others made but little attempt to pene- 
trate. His garment of authority and influence was too 
great. He was too big and didn’t fit. 

Later came service in the bare, wooden church, and 
for the second time he saw the prelate in robes of 
office. The sun was setting and its level beams filled 
the tiny edifice with a softened glow. Overhead the 
243 


THE RAPIDS 


sky was like a benison, while the bishop spoke words 
of cheer and strength that went straight to the hearts 
of his congregation. He stood, as he always stood, 
in front of the chancel, a great figure in white and 
scarlet, with a deep mellow voice that seemd to dis- 
solve in the hush of evening like a lingering caress. 
Clark, in his corner, sat motionless, touched as he had 
seldom been touched before. He began to see why 
the bishop spent his life in this wilderness. 

Service done, the Evangeline moved out over a sea 
that was sheer, flat silver. Indian Joe sat motionless 
at the wheel, the spokes pressed lightly against his 
polished palm. At the engine room hatch a voiceless 
Scotchman smoked a contemplative pipe, and for the 
rest of it there was only the muffled thud of the pro- 
peller, the subdued stroke of the engine and the whisper 
of split water at the yacht’s knifelike stem. Clark did 
not speak. It seemed as the yacht slipped on, that he 
was exploring a kingdom in which the population and 
their ways were hitherto unknown to him; a domain 
that was pathetic rather than poor — and remote from 
his scheme of things. He had given this phase of life 
no thought till the bishop introduced him to it, and was 
puzzled that both men and women could be so deprived 
of the salt of life and yet be apparently content. The 
bishop’s voice broke his reverie. 

“ Did you ever consider how much those with im- 
agination owe to those who have none? ” 

Clark started a little, then shook his head. “ No, I 
haven’t.” 

“ Isn’t it true? ” 


244 


THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


“ It may be — but I don’t see what there is to create 
any obligation.” 

“ Well, you’re discharging it every day. You create 
things primarily for yourself, but actually what you 
do is to create opportunities for others less endowed 
with imaginative power. And whatever may be the 
ultimate scope or result of your work at St. Marys, 
that is the highest service it will ever perform. And, 
by the way, my friends seemed a little afraid of you 
at supper, though I assured them you were perfectly 
harmless. Do you mind telling me if you got any 
impressions ? ” 

“ About the events of the day ? ” 

“ Partly. I’m wondering just what people like these 
suggest to a man of your sort. Is it all very drab and 
uneventful? ” 

“ Well,” said Clark thoughtfully, “ it is something 
like that, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I thought so once, but that’s just what I don’t now 
admit, and urge that this is a case where we should con- 
sider comparative values. Satisfaction is not, after all, 
so much a matter of the size or quality of the thing that 
satisfies, as it is of the individual who is affected and 
his circumstances. Small joys go a long way on Mani- 
toulin Island.” 

“ But are people who live like this not conscious of 
any deprivation ? ” 

“ It’s not so much that as it is wonder what it would 
be like to own certain things or comforts. You don’t 
find much envy in the bush country, but you do find a 
lot of self-respect. I could tell you things about some 
245 


THE RAPIDS 


Indian friends of mine that would clear your mind, 
if you happen to think that the only good Indian is a 
dead one. It seems to me that life in the open, even 
though a great part of it is spent in exposure and hard- 
ship, has certain spiritual compensations.” 

Clark nodded. “ Perhaps.” 

“ Put it this way : you deal with many kinds of men, 
but do you not always feel better disposed toward a 
simple soul, say like our friend Fisette, than toward 
some shrewd person who arms himself at every con- 
ceivable point ? ” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“ Well, that’s what I feel about my people. Most 
of them are unarmed and they trust me, and anything 
I can do seems small in comparison to that trust. 
You’ve got a trust too, my friend.” 

Clark smiled. “ That’s what my directors lose no 
opportunity of telling me.” 

“ But who or what is your Director? ” asked the 
bishop, leaning forward earnestly. “ You needn’t be 
anxious, I’m not going to sermonize. Your Director 
is the same as mine, the great Force, call it what you 
will. It drove me into the church and drove you to 
what you are, and our first trust is to ourselves — 
you’ll agree with me there — and with that undis- 
charged nothing else can be carried out. Just at this 
moment I wish I were as competent for my job as you 
are for yours.” 

“ But, bishop, you’re — ” 

The big man raised his hand. “ Not a word, for to- 
night I feel like Browning’s Bishop Blougram who 
246 


THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


‘ rolled him out a mind long crumpled, till creased con- 
sciousness lay smooth/ It does me good to rub out 
the wrinkles occasionally. Now tell me, looking back 
at the last few years in St. Marys, do you appreciate 
what you’ve done ? ” 

“ I haven’t had much time to look back ” said Clark 
thoughtfully. “ The opportunity was there and I took 
it, then I was fortunate enough to enlist the necessary 
support. Since that time the district seems to have 
responded to every conceivable need, and we have been 
able to fall in step with a natural scheme for developing 
natural resources, that’s all.” 

The bishop shook his head. “ Not quite : it’s a great 
drama you’re enacting up there, with the rapids for a 
setting. They run through it all, don’t they? — the 
changeless, elemental background before which man 
climbs up on the stage, makes his bow, enacts his part 
and gives place to some one else. You are sending out 
multitudes of influences that will never be determined 
or traced to their result. You once told me that it 
all began when you overheard a conversation in a 
train.” 

“ Yes,” Clark paused, then added with a laugh, “ an 
example of the importance of small things. You’ve 
made your point, bishop.” 

“ Thank you, but I’ve never been able to decide 
whether a thing is small or not. Some of the things 
that you and I prize very highly may actually be of 
small account.” 

For a while Clark did not answer. Ever since com- 
ing on board the Evangeline he had been conscious of a 
247 


THE RAPIDS 


new atmosphere, tenanted by the spirit of her master, 
and of a new language which, though its tones were 
familiar, seemed to be the vehicle of a novel wisdom 
and understanding. He was impressed with the utter 
candor of his host, but chiefly with his superlative sym- 
pathy with all men. The visitor fell under the influ- 
ence of a benign nature which, intensely human in all 
its attributes, proffered its solace to all alike. It was, 
he concluded, the life function of the bishop to give 
himself in royal abandonment. 

He did not often put himself in the place of other 
men, but that night, after the Evangeline had slid into a 
moon spilt harbor amongst the hills, and the bishop 
explained that he had come here because poor people 
were apt to overtax themselves in entertaining, the 
visitor lay on the cock pit cushions and stared long at 
the starry sky. Nothing important was to be attached 
to this trip, and yet he felt it to be momentous. He 
knew he would always remember it, and that the 
memory would hereafter assert itself in unexpected 
moments. He admitted being influenced by the bishop 
and yet felt equipped for all that he had to do without 
any such influence. But there crept over him the slow 
conception that life might unexpectedly change, and 
that under hitherto unimagined conditions he might 
turn to these hours for the comfort of remembrance. 

Three more days of missionary work and the Evan- 
geline turned homeward. Clark took the wheel for 
an hour, with the bishop beside him. 

“ I hope,” said the latter, “ that the trip has been a 
success for you ? ” 


248 


THE WEB OF LACHESIS 


The amateur pilot gave an involuntary start. The 
question pitched his mind forward to the works, and he 
realized that for five days he had forgotten all about 
them. 

“ It has been a very great pleasure to me,” went on 
the prelate quietly. “ I’m apt to have too much broad- 
cloth and not enough gray tweed in my life. Most of 
us are in the same case, and one’s love of one’s work 
does not suffer by an interest in other things.” 

“ My dear sir, I’ve benefited enormously. I’m a 
new man and ready for anything — even the worst.” 
How little did he dream that at that very moment 
Lachesis was spinning her invisible web. 

“ Ah ! that’s what we must always be ready for — or 
the best, which is sometimes the same thing. Keep 
her to port a little.” 

The yacht rounded a long point and came in sight of 
the works, while Clark experienced a throb of thank- 
fulness that his host had attempted no missionary work 
on him. He was as good as his word. There had 
been no proselytizing. 

As the vessel reached the dock, they said good-by, 
each ready to do his job over again, and Clark, with his 
hand enveloped in the warm clasp, realized much of the 
secret of the prelate’s life, which was no secret at all 
but just the benignity of a great and tender soul. He 
stepped over the yacht’s side and glanced at his secre- 
tary who advanced to meet him with a telegram in his 
hand, noting that the young man’s face was pale and 
his eyes unusually brilliant. 

“ This came an hour ago, sir-.” 

249 


THE RAPIDS 


With an impatient gesture he opened the folded sheet 
and read, his heart slowly contracting : 

Regret unable to accept first cargo of rails being five thou- 
sand tons. These not up to your guarantee and our specifi- 
cations. Full information this mail with the result of physi- 
cal and chemical tests. 

United Railway Company. 

Involuntarily he raised his head. The yacht was 
backing out, and the bishop, coiling a rope in her bows, 
straightened up to wave farewell. Automatically 
Clark waved back, then, with the telegram crumpled in 
his palm, turned and walked slowly toward his office. 
Something the bishop had said began to sing in his 
brain. Could the best and the worst ever be the same 
thing? 


XX.— THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 

T HE paralyzing news had lain in the faithful keep- 
ing of a confidential operator and the white faced 
secretary who had guarded it jealously. The latter 
followed to the private office. When the door was 
closed in his face, he went to his own desk and sat 
blindly at his letters. Clark stood at a big window 
that commanded the rapids. Deep lines were furrowed 
suddenly on his face, and his eyes were like sunken bits 
of cold, gray steel. He felt the gentle vibration of the 
mills, and through it pierced the words of the telegram 
like a thin sharp voice that would not be denied. It 
was fully an hour later that his call sounded for the 
secretary. 

“ The rail mill will be closed shortly for temporary 
alteration. If you are asked anything about it — and 
you will be — that is all you know. This means that 
the furnaces must be blown down. I don’t anticipate 
any serious delay. You will repeat this telegram to 
Philadelphia, and add that I will report more fully in 
the next twenty-four hours. There’s just one thing 
more. A good deal of importance will attach to your 
manner and attitude for the next few days. That’s 
all.” 

The young man nodded, finding it difficult to speak. 
There was nothing unusual about his leader, except 
that the eyes were a little more deep set, the voice a 
shade harder. 


251 


THE RAPIDS 


A few moments later, Clark stood in the rail mill 
watching the titanic rolls spew out ribbons of glowing 
steel. It came over him in a sickening flood that the 
whole giant undertaking was useless, and instead of 
the supreme delight he experienced a few months be- 
fore there was now but a huge mechanical travesty 
that flouted the unremitting strain and effort of years. 
He was defacing the everlasting hills with dynamite to 
make something the commercial world did not want. 
A surge of protest overcame his spirit, followed by a 
cynical contempt for the futility of the best efforts of 
man. Impatiently he walked up to the superintendent 
of the mill. 

The latter touched a grimy hat. “ We’re on the 
last ten thousand tons for the United,” he said with a 
note of pride — “ the mill’s running fine.” 

“ It may be,” snapped Clark acidly, “ but shut it 
down. Your rails are no good.” 

The other man blinked at him. “ Eh? ” 

“ Do what you’re told,” repeated Clark with the 
least shake in his dominant voice. “ The United 
doesn’t want these rails, though some one else will.” 

Over the superintendent’s sooty face crept a look of 
blank amazement. “ Shut down ! why ? ” he floundered 
helplessly. “ I can’t, till this heat is through, and 
there’s nothing the matter with the rails.” 

“ Other people say there is, so get the heat through 
and obey orders.” Then, with sudden anger, “ Is the 
job too big for you? ” 

He turned away abruptly, passing the whirling fly- 
wheel, the ponderous cylinders, the glowing ovens, 
252 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


while above him the traveling crane moved like a 
whining monster across the blackened roof. He hast- 
ened, desirous of getting out of the presence of these 
giants whom he had assembled only in order that they 
might deride him with their massive proportions. 

So on to the towering masses of the furnaces. 
Here he saw poured a molten charge, and stood fas- 
cinated, as always, by the smooth and deadly gleam of 
molten metal, till, curtly, the same orders were issued. 
No further charges should be fed in before orders to 
that effect. Then back to his office, where he cancelled 
shipments of coke, and sent to the iron mine a curt 
word that stilled the boom of dynamite and silenced the 
sharp chatter of the drills. 

Gradually through the works spread the chilling 
news. A slowly thickening stream of Swedes, Poles 
and Hungarians filed out of the big gates, and Ironville 
was, in mid-afternoon, populated with a puzzled multi- 
tude that repaired automatically to the saloons. 
Through pulp mills and machine shops, through power 
and pumping stations-, the story went, growing as 
rapidly as it spread. Time keepers heard it and office 
clerks, and the crews of tugs and steamships that lay 
at the big dock below the works. And while rumors 
were widening every minute, there was a knock at 
Clark’s door and, looking up, he saw the comptroller 
who stood quietly, with a check for the week’s payroll 
in his hand. 

“ How much ? ” The voice was admirably imper- 
sonal. 

“ One hundred and ten thousand.” The comptroller 
253 


THE RAPIDS 


was a short fat man, and at the moment quivering with 
suppressed excitement. 

The general manager scribbled his initials on the blue 
slip, handed it back without a word, and did not even 
look up as the official went out. A few minutes later 
he walked slowly through the pulp mill, stopping here 
and there to speak to superintendents and workmen. 
The swishing rasp of the great stones and the steady 
rumble of turbines brought him a sense of comfort. 
He progressed deliberately, and with his usual keen in- 
terest, so that, although hundreds of eyes followed him, 
not a man could assume that anything had gone seri- 
ously wrong. It was an hour in which he found and 
radiated confidence. Here, at least, was the universal 
conclusion that all was as it should be. He was on 
the bank of the power canal when his secretary ap- 
proached again. 

“ What is it this time?” 

“ Hobbs is at the bank with the payroll check, and 
has just telephoned up. I think you’d better speak to 
him, sir.” 

Clark’s lips pressed tight and his eyes opened a little. 
Retracing his steps, he listened to an agitated voice. 

“ Mr. Brewster states he has no authority to cash 
this check unless we cover our overdraft. He would 
like to talk to you.” 

“ Let him.” 

Again the receiver spoke, while Clark’s face grew 
suddenly very grim. “ I think you’d better come up 
and see me,” he said shortly. 

Then he listened. “ Very well,” he snapped. His 
254 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


features were like a mask. “ I’m going down to the 
bank,” he went on dryly to the secretary, “ for the first 
time in his life Mr. Brewster is unable to leave his office 
and come up to mine when invited.” 

He drove into St. Marys followed by the glances of 
every man and woman who caught sight of the erect 
figure. The town was full of confused and conflicting 
rumors, but nothing had as yet crystallized. The ap- 
pearance of Clark in mid afternoon at the door of the 
bank, thickened the air. It was known that people with 
whom he did business invariably went to him. Not in 
years had he been to Brewster. But for all of that he 
seemed as cheerful as usual, and took off his gray hat to 
Mrs. Worden with accustomed and somewhat formal 
urbanity. Inside he found Hobbs, his round, soft face 
looking unhealthily pallid, and Brewster with his jaw 
stuck out, a determined expression on his young 
features. 

“ Well, what’s the trouble? ” 

“ Nothing very serious.” Brewster spoke with a 
pleasant accent, but he was confronting the most diffi- 
cult hour of his life. “ Just this check.” 

“ What about it?” 

“ I can’t make any further advances till your present 
acceptances are met in Philadelphia. We have half a 
million of them.” 

“ That payroll has got to be disbursed.” 

“ I’m sorry, but I can’t cash that check.” 

The lines on the older man’s face tightened and 
deepened. “ Mr. Brewster, we have spent some fifteen 
millions of capital through your bank. This amount is 
255 


THE RAPIDS 


too small to discuss. Do you realize that, if you per- 
sist, the men will go unpaid for the first time in seven 
years ? ” 

“ I’m sorry, but I can’t help that.” The young 
manager began to feel more fortified. 

“ Is this because there’s a temporary interruption at 
the rail mill? ” said Clark bitterly. “ You’re assuming 
a big responsibility.” 

“ I regret that I can give no reasons, and am only 
doing what seems best in the interest of the bank. If 
the acceptances are met, — and the first falls due two 
weeks from to-day — our head office will probably au- 
thorize a further advance, provided we are secured. 
Under the circumstances your Philadelphia office should 
take care of this matter.” 

“ And this is your last word ? ” snapped Clark with 
emphasis. 

But Brewster had by this time completely pulled him- 
self together. The most trying moment was passed, 
and for once the mesmeric influence had failed. He 
felt behind him the authority of Thorpe and his own 
directors, and revolted at the thought of imperiling his 
own record. 

“ You understand,” came in Clark’s voice, “ what 
happens when men are not paid — especially the type 
of many of our employees. The Swede and Hungarian 
are apt to be ugly. Further — an unpaid payroll has a 
bad effect on a company’s securities, to say nothing of 
the effect on business confidence in St. Marys. You 
have, of course, weighed all this.” 

Brewster’s eyes were very grave and his face flushed. 
256 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


“ Pm sorry, but I'm doing what I take to be my duty,” 
he said with a desperate effort. 

The older man’s mood changed as though in a flash. 
“ In that case I’ve nothing more to say.” He got up. 
“ Come on, Hobbs, Mr. Brewster seems immovable. 
We’ll have to wire Philadelphia for the money.” 
With that he went briskly out. 

The banker looked after him in wonderment. The 
poignant instant was over, and he pondered whether, 
after all, he had done right. His cipher message sent 
to Toronto as soon as the news from the works reached 
him, was still unanswered, but, he reflected, he had 
tried to act on what he believed to be Thorpe’s judg- 
ment as well as his own. Should the telegram for 
which he waited not confirm his decision, there was time 
enough to apprise Clark of the fact that night. And 
just then the mayor entered the office and sat down, 
mopping his face. 

“ What about it? ” he demanded presently. 

“ I don’t know any more than you do — possibly not 
as much.” 

“ Well,” said Filmer absently, “ there’s a lot going 
round. Some have it the works are seized for debt, 
others that there’s a mistake in the rails, others that 
the Philadelphia directors have resigned. Anyway 
half the thing seems to have stopped.” 

“ Not half of it, just the iron and steel section.” 

“ Yes, but that’s the big end of the whole show. It 
was expected to carry the burden.” 

“ It’s still there, isn’t it? ” said Brewster fretfully. 

The mayor glanced at him quickly. Something in 
257 


THE RAPIDS 


the voice suggested that the bank was involved and 
that the thing was getting on Brewster’s nerves. “ I 
hope you’re all right,” he answered evenly, “ but I’m 
carrying more stuff than I like to think of just now.” 

He departed feeling quite obviously rather balked of 
his desire for inside information. Just outside he met 
Dibbott. 

“ I saw Mr. Clark just now,” said the latter. “ He 
doesn’t seem at all worried. Of course you’ve heard 
the news ? ” 

Filmer nodded. “ Yes, and I’ve a feeling we’re go- 
ing to hear more before long. Haven’t got any Con- 
solidated stock have you ? ” 

“ Stock! Never owned a share in my life, but I’ve 
a good mind to sell my place now while the price is up. 
Look at that, will you ! ” 

The street cars coming down from the works were 
bulging with the population of Ironville, who had in- 
consequently decided to take the holiday in St. Marys. 
Hundreds of them were dressed in Sunday best and 
bent on an outing ; big Slovaks and Poles whose horny 
fists gripped the platform rail while they smoked cheap 
cigars with gaudy labels and chattered volubly to each 
other. It was good to be out of Ironville. 

On the way down they passed Clark, and with boyish 
abandon waved their hats in greeting. Clark smiled 
back and whirled on. The sight of them provoked the 
question in his mind and brought it closer. What if 
these men were not paid next week, as they were 
promised? Returning to his office, he devoted himself 
to innumerable details affecting the iron works. To 
258 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


shut them down was not so simple a thing as he an- 
ticipated. They had acquired a momentum it was diffi- 
cult to arrest. Then, wiring in code to Philadelphia 
for his requirements in cash, he went up to the big 
house on the hill and shut himself from all intruders. 

On the terrace, overlooking river and works, he 
walked ceaselessly up and down, irritated but not 
alarmed. Some foreign substance had got into the 
delicate wheels of progress, and the machine was for 
the moment out of adjustment. From where he stood 
the works were visible, and while he missed the long 
illumination of the rail mill and the pyramidal flame of 
the converters, there still sparkled the pulp mill with 
its long, lighted windows and the gleam of water in the 
tail race. Twenty-four hours ago he was sitting on 
the deck of the Evangeline with the genial bishop. 
Now he was very much alone. What would Wimper- 
ley and the rest do in such an emergency? He had 
never seen them in a corner. His reverie was inter- 
rupted by a message that Manson desired to see him. 

“ Riots ?” said Clark to himself, then aloud, 
“ Bring him here.” 

The big man came up, extending a friendly hand. 
Clark had a curious dislike for physical, personal con- 
tact, even of the slightest, but now overcame it with 
difficulty and motioned his visitor to a chair. The 
latter sat speechless. 

“ Well, Mr. Manson?” Clark asked when the 
silence became too perceptible. 

“ I came to ask you if there were any prospects of 
trouble at the works,” said the latter presently. He 
259 


THE RAPIDS 


spoke jerkily, and in a note far removed from the deep 
boom of his usual voice. 

“ Why should you expect any trouble because pay 
day is postponed for a week ? ” 

Manson lifted his heavy lids. “ Is it only for a 
week ? ” 

Clark got up and paced the terrace, his head thrust 
forward, his hands behind his back. There was that 
in the visitor’s manner which puzzled him. The evi- 
dent agitation and discomfort, the anxious moving of 
the thick arms, the constant shifting of the feet, all 
pointed to something that struck deeper than the pos- 
sibility of a riot. And Manson, he had reason to know, 
was no coward. 

“ I anticipate that it will be less than a week. Plow 
many men have you ? ” 

“ Thirty, and myself.” 

“ We have twenty guards at the works, also, if need 
be, there’s the local militia.” 

“ Have you ever seen them ? ” said the chief con- 
stable contemptuously. 

“ No, but the law is behind them and a certain 
amount of discipline,” then, his voice changing 
abruptly, “ Mr. Manson, are you afraid? ” 

The big man stared at him as though fascinated. 
His dark face began to work convulsively in an obvious 
attempt to voice that which disturbed him. Clark 
watched it all. 

“ Well,” he said with ill concealed impatience, “ if 
it’s not an imaginary riot that’s troubling you, I’ll say 
good evening. I’m rather busy at the moment.” 

260 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


At that Manson half lifted himself out of his chair 
and leaned forward. “ It’s the works,” he whispered 
huskily, “ are they all going to hell ? ” 

Clark stared at him in open astonishment. It was an 
absurd thing that at this moment he should be subjected 
to a visit from a man who had never believed in him, 
but who was now evidently torn by anxiety at the 
thought of his failure. There came a swift and silent 
suggestion, but the thing was too remote. 

“ Mr. Manson,” he said slowly, “ you never took 
any stock in me or my efforts, so why worry? ” 

“ But that’s just what I did do,” croaked the con- 
stable, reddening to his temples. “ I invested all I 
could and,” he added dully, “ I’ve got it now.” 

“ Ah Iso that’s it?” 

“ And I’d be grateful if you could tell me — ” 

“ So you said one thing and did another ! ” The 
tones were like a knife. “ Well, that’s your privilege, 
and none of my affair, and,” he concluded curtly, “ I 
don’t care to discuss it. Good evening.” 

But Manson was on his feet, too desperate to be 
denied. “ It’s not your affair what I may have said or 
done ? I’m a shareholder — a large one. I’ve a right 
to come here and ask you a question. It’s nothing 
unreasonable — and you’ll answer it.” He stood over 
the smaller man, dark and threatening. 

Clark laughed in his face, till, with that extraor- 
dinary perception which so frequently cleft to the essen- 
tial essence of things, he perceived that there was that 
which was more important than the fact that Manson 
had been speculating and would certainly be bitten. 
261 


THE RAPIDS 


His attitude in public was worth something — at any 
rate in St. Marys. Known universally as a critic and 
pessimist, it would be notable if now, in the time of 
crisis, he became a supporter. Manson as a share- 
holder did not matter, but officially he did matter. 
Very swiftly Clark ran over this in his mind, while the 
big man waited, no longer a menace but only a straw 
borne by the flood which was the creation of Clark’s 
imagination. There was no doubt in the latter’s mind 
as to the ultimate solution of present difficulties. He 
still believed, as he always believed, in himself, in the 
country and in his enterprise. So, very deliberately, he 
began to talk. 

“ You have asked me a very extraordinary question 

— that is from you — but it appears,” here the voice 
was a little sardonic, “ that you had more confidence in 
me than you admitted. Now you ask about the future. 
I tell you that I never had more faith in the final out- 
come of affairs than I have at this moment. There 
have been difficulties of which the public knew nothing 

— and this is the only one which has become common 
knowledge. Do you expect any one to build up a con- 
cern like this without anxious moments? You know 
what St. Marys was seven years ago, and I remember 
very distinctly your attitude toward myself. It has 
taken seven years,” here once more the voice was full 
of contempt — “ seven years and a crisis, to convert 
you. Speculators will doubtless take advantage of this 
interruption, but I am confident that long after you and 
I have passed on, steel rails will still be rolled at the 
works. Good evening.” 


262 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


Manson muttered something unintelligible, and 
moved off down the long hill that led to St. Marys. 
For the first time in his life he believed in Clark, be- 
lieved in him in that hour when the faith of thousands 
was being shaken. He had no conception what a 
pigmy unit he himself was in the multitude who fol- 
lowed their remarkable leader. He had no grasp of 
the fundamentals of which Clark confidently took hold 
in the time of stress. He did not wonder who else 
was in like case with himself. He only knew that this 
man had thrown him the end of a rope, and he grasped 
at it with all the strength of his soul, and had no in- 
tentions of loosening his hold. 

Later that evening he went in to see Filmer, whose 
office lights were on, and here found Dibbott and Wor- 
den. The three were talking earnestly, and as the 
broad figure loomed in the doorway Dibbott gave a dry 
laugh. 

“ Our pessimist’s reputation is looking up. Have 
you come to crow ? ” 

Manson shook his head and told them very briefly of 
his visit. There was no mention of his own specula- 
tion. “ So after all, the thing is probably all right,” he 
concluded. “ At any rate, Clark doesn’t seem worried, 
so why should we? ” 

Filmer gave vent to a low whistle. “ Hypnotized at 
last!” 

“ No,” said Manson, flushing, and went on to pro- 
mulgate the reasons for his hopes. The others said 
nothing, but he could see they were impressed. Pres- 
ently he went out on a midnight round of inspection, 
263 


THE RAPIDS 


and, as the door closed behind him, Worden nodded 
thoughtfully. 

“ For the first time in seven years he seems reason- 
able in this connection. After all, if we get off the 
handle it will be a mighty bad example. How about it, 
Mr. Mayor? ” 

“ Well,” said Filmer, caressing his glossy whiskers, 
“ I always believed in Clark and I guess I do now. If 
he were trying to make money for himself out of this 
thing we’d know it, but he isn’t. Gentlemen, the judge 
is right — we’ve got to hold the town together.” 

On the corner they met Bowers, the Company’s so- 
licitor, who was walking slowly home smoking a peace- 
ful cigar. 

“ What’s this? ” he said, grinning. “ Looks like old 
times to see you three together.” 

Filmer had a sudden thought. “ Do any of you 
chaps remember what anniversary this is ? ” 

The others searched their brains and gave it up. 

“ Seven years ago to-night there was a certain no- 
table meeting in the town hall.” 

“ And now there’s one in the corner. “ We’ve come 
down in the world,” put in Dibbott. 

“ Possibly, but possibly not. I was just thinking of 
all that has happened in seven years. It should pre- 
vent us from getting rattled.” The mayor turned to 
Bowers, “ Seen Clark to-day? ” 

“ Haven’t seen or heard of him for three days,” an- 
swered the lawyer shortly — then, because he wanted 
to avoid being pumped, “ good night — I’m for my 
blameless couch.” 


264 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


They looked after him and at each other. “ Seen 
Belding? ” asked Dibbott of the judge. 

“ No, he’s down in Chicago. I think he’s buying 
machinery. Now it’s late and if I don’t go home too, 
I’ll get into trouble.” He turned towards the old 
house by the river, and halted a few steps off. “ Good 
night, you fellows, I feel better.” 

Thus it came that while a brooding, gray eyed man 
paced his terrace with his eyes fixed on the far white 
line of the rapids, whose call was indistinguishable at 
this distance, there was spreading almost under the 
shadow of the works a novel spirit of confidence in 
himself and his vast enterprise. It was not till a sud- 
den question arose, that St. Marys realized the prodi- 
gious meaning of their new city and how lavishly all 
Clark’s promises had been redeemed. In the hour of 
anxiety they leaned on him more than ever before. 
This new birth — this upholding trust — was con- 
ceived at the very moment when Wimperley and the 
others were gathered in harassed counsel, and through 
Philadelphia and the surrounding state was broadening 
a dark cloud of rumor that carried swift fear to thou- 
sands of hearts. But it was not fear that came to the 
keen brain of Henry Marsham. 

By eleven that night Clark had heard nothing from 
his head office. The strain became too great, and he 
went into a little room off the library where an ex- 
tension of the private wire had been carried up from 
the works. There was once a time when he could 
send and receive in the Morse code, so now he sat down 
and laid a somewhat uncertain finger on the tilting key. 
265 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Phil — Phil — Phil.” 

Instantly and to his surprise, came the reply. 

“ Sma — Sma — Sma.” 

“Is — Wimp — there?” The thing began to 
come a little easier. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Tell — Wimp — I — want — answer — funds — 
for — payroll.” 

Clark got this off laboriously, conscious that how- 
ever clear might be the message, the wire was a poor 
transmitter as compared to eye and voice. 

“ Wimp — says — meeting — going — on — now 
- — cannot — act — before — to-morrow — Get that.” 

“ Yes,” flashed the plunging reply. 

“ Wimp — waiting — your — report — defect — in 
— rails.” 

Clark’s brows wrinkled and he bent over the key. 
“ Cannot — send — report — till — several — chemi- 
cal — anal — anal — ” 

“ Yes — analyses — I — get — you — are — com- 
plete — is — that — it.” 

“ Yes.” Clark breathed a sigh of relief. His brow T 
was wet. 

“ When — will — that — be — Wimp — asks.” 

“ Three — days.” 

“ Wimp — says — hurry — up — things — shaky — 
here — expect — attack — by — bears — have tried — 
to — place — rails — elsewhere — but — not — suc- 
cessful. Wimp — says — good night.” 

Clark’s eyes sparkled with anger and he hammered 
the key. There were other things he wanted to say — 
266 


THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS 


and must say. But for all his repeated calls there was 
only silence, till in an interval, while he rubbed his 
throbbing fingers, the receiver began to tilt. 

“ Wimp — says — good night — ” it announced with 
metallic finality. 

He got up and stood staring at the thing for a mo- 
ment, his face heavy with anger, the group in Wimper- 
ley’s office vividly before him. He could see the cold 
features of Birch, sharpened by the tenseness of the 
hour into a visage bloodless and inflexible, with thin 
tight lips and narrow expressionless eyes. He could see 
Stoughton, red with discomfort and resentment ; Riggs’ 
excited and anxious little face, and Wimperley himself, 
cast with a new severity; all supremely conscious of 
that which probably must be faced on the morrow. 
And what about Marsham? Tottering was now their 
faith in the essential future of the works and the great 
cycle of their operations. The wire had transmitted 
their decisions, but over its yellow filament had also 
trickled their apprehension. With a touch of cynicism 
he recalled the congratulatory messages — the very 
first it had carried. 

He went out on the terrace again, seeking the black 
bulk of the rail mill in the medley of structures down at 
the works. Presently he found and scrutinized it. 
Somewhere in its gloom lurked an error, or else in the 
great furnaces that shouldered nakedly into the moonlit 
air. With a sudden sense of fatigue, he turned to his 
bedroom. 

“ At any rate the chief constable is with me ” he 
soliloquized sardonically, “ and that’s something.” 

In five minutes he was sleeping profoundly. 

267 


XXL— THE CRASH 


A ROUND the neck of every great industrial under- 
taking is hung a chain of unlovely parasites, who 
fatten on the interruptions to its progress and the 
fluctuations in its success. These men create nothing 
— contribute nothing. Playing on the fears and hopes 
and untempered weakness of the public, they reap where 
they do not sow and feed the speculative appetite of 
millions. To them it is negligible whether good men 
go down or honest effort is rewarded. Predatory by 
nature and unscrupulous in action, they prey upon their 
fellows, and, like the wolf, are strangers to mercy and 
compassion. Their wealth is not an asset to the world, 
because it represents nothing they have originated, but 
only that which they have filched from others less 
shrewd and unscrupulous. They do not hesitate to 
magnify the false or to bring to ruin what they find 
most profitably assailable. They have respect for 
neither genius nor labor, but juggle with the efforts 
of both in a fierce game for gold. 

As the gong struck on the Philadelphia Exchange 
next morning, a well known operator associated with 
Marsham’s firm threw five thousand shares of Con- 
solidated on the market. It was taken at forty-eight, a 
loss of two points, and in that first transaction the value 
of the entire enterprise shrank by half a million. 

268 


THE CRASH 


A moment later, Wimperley knew of it and sent for 
Birch, but Birch, who had been just as speedily in- 
formed, was already on his way. He came in, a little 
paler than usual. On his heels arrived Stoughton and 
Riggs. 

They were in the padded seclusion of the president’s 
inner office, while two blocks away swelled a storm, 
whose echoes only reached them in the sharp staccato of 
the ticker in the corner as it vomited a strip of white 
paper. Wimperley stood there, the strip slipping be- 
tween his fingers, while selling orders began to pour in 
to Philadelphia, and the price of Consolidated crumbled 
like dust. He could visualize the scene on the floor of 
the Exchange, the frenzy of men smitten with sudden 
fear, and the deliberate cold-blooded action of others 
who lent their weight to this downfall. Marsham was 
very busy. Greater grew the flood, with sales of so 
great quantities of stock that they perceived the market 
was going boldly short. Then came an avalanche of 
small holdings, till the ticker announced that it had 
fallen behind the record of transactions and that Con- 
solidated was now offered at thirty-five with no bid- 
ders. This was three-quarters of an hour after the 
Exchange opened. 

Stoughton and the others sat quite motionless. The 
thing was too big for them to grasp at once, but they 
had a dull sense that the foundation stones of their 
great pyramid were shifting, that the gigantic structures 
at St. Marys were dissolving into something phantom- 
like and tenuous. At this juncture a message was 
brought in from Clark. 


269 


THE RAPIDS 


Hear market is very weak. Please buy five thousand for 
me by way of support. 

Wimperley read and handed it silently to Riggs. 

The little man swallowed a lump in his throat. “ By 
God ! ” he said unsteadily, “ but he’s got sand, no doubt 
about it.” 

“ What’s that?” Stoughton demanded dully, and, 
reaching out, glanced at the telegram. “ Why throw 
Robert Fisher to the wolves? They’re doing well 
enough as it is,” he grunted, and relapsed into a brood- 
ing silence. 

Then began to arrive inquiries from country banks 
and cancellations from country subscribers. Wimper- 
ley read them out as they came in, and, well informed 
though he was of the wide distribution of Consolidated 
stock, experienced a slow amazement at the broad range 
of his followers. Their messages were indignant, de- 
spairing, threatening and pathetic. He began to won- 
der why he had accepted a responsibility which was 
now for the first time unveiled in such startling propor- 
tions. Yesterday the Consolidated was a name to con- 
jure with. To-day it was an epitome of human fear 
and desperation. 

Ten seconds before the noon gong struck on the Ex- 
change, a frantic broker lifted a bull like voice above 
the uproar. 

“ Sell five thousand consol at thirty-two, thirty- 
two ! ” He bellowed it out raucously. The selling or- 
der had been flashed from Toronto. 

“ Taken at thirty-two,” snapped Marsham’s oper- 
ator, who had opened the perilous game that morning, 
270 


THE CRASH 


and, smiling, jotted a note on his cuff. He had made 
just eighty thousand dollars on that one transaction. 
The market strengthened a little in the afternoon on 
short covering, the matter of investment being thrown 
to the winds. Consolidated was now a gambling coun- 
ter, and the closing quotation stood at thirty-five. For- 
mer values had shrunk by some eight millions. Gone 
was that laborious upbuilding into which Clark and the 
rest had thrown their very souls; overcast were the 
efforts of seven years. It was, to most people, a ques- 
tion of what might be made of what was left. The 
works remained, but, the public concluded, the iron and 
steel section, the heart of the thing, was unsound. 
Such is the communicable essence of fear. 

At ten minutes after three the directors met to face 
a situation which was, in all truth, serious enough. 
Philadelphia banks, smarting from loans made on Con- 
solidated stock, had declined further credit. The first 
payment of a million dollars for steel rails was in- 
definitely deferred. Creditors, galvanized by the events 
of the day, poured in ceaseless demands that their ac- 
counts be liquidated, but moneys due the Consolidated 
for pulp had been realized and diverted into the build- 
ing of railways and the construction of the rail mill. 
Birch, his face very grave, ran over all this in a level 
monotone of a voice, while the rest wearily admitted its 
truth, and in the middle of the rehearsal a message was 
brought in from Clark. 

Greatly regret events of to-day but am unshakenly confi- 
dent for the future, given sufficient time to remedy defect in 
rails which should not take long. Chemical analyses show 
271 


THE RAPIDS 


too high carbon and this can be rectified. Now awaiting re- 
mittance for payroll. 

Wimperley read it without a trace of accentuation, 
while Stoughton got up and stared, as once before, at 
the sky line of Philadelphia. 

“ Well,” drawled Birch dryly, “ we’ve heard from 
our prophet.” 

“ He’s got more confidence in our future than we 
have in his past,” put in Riggs. 

Stoughton turned, “ What about the payroll ? ” 

“If you have a million or so to spare, we’ll send it 
up. There’s more to be met than the payroll.” The 
voice was a trifle insulting, but Stoughton did not 
notice it, and Birch went on. “ There’s just one thing 
we can do, if we can’t get money to run.” 

“ Well? ” jerked out Riggs, “ say it.” 

“ Shut down.” 

Wimperley ’s long fingers were drumming the table. 
He did not fancy himself as the president of a great 
company in whose works not a wheel was turning. 

“ I’d like to find some other way out of it. There’s 
going to be hell to pay here, but — ” 

“ Perhaps the ingenious gentleman at St. Marys 
could help out,” said Birch acidly. 

At that came a little silence and there appeared the 
vision of Clark in his office, with his achievements dis- 
solving before his eyes. 

“ Robert Fisher is no financier,” struck in Stoughton 
wearily. 

Wimperley smiled in spite of himself. “ Perhaps 
not, but he mesmerized us into that office. There’s 
272 


THE CRASH 


only one thing I can see — issue debentures secured by 
first mortgage.” 

“ Who’ll take ’em? We used up all our arguments 
long ago. Philadelphia doesn’t want a mortgage on 
Robert Fisher, and what about the Pennsylvania 
farmer? ” 

“ What about him? ” asked Wimperley pettishly. 

“ As I know him, he’s a bad loser — he works too 
hard for it. This is a case of new money from out- 
side, and I for one don’t feel like doing any traveling.” 

“ In other words we’ve demonstrated that whether 
or not by any fault of ours, we’ve made a mess of it,” 
said Stoughton with utter candor. 

“ Something remarkably like it.” 

“ And when Clark told us, months ago, that he 
wouldn’t draw any salary, and that a lot of others were 
only drawing half salary to help out till the rail mill got 
going, we should have made provision for possible mis- 
takes, and seen as well that we were getting in over our 
ears.” 

“ But Clark believed all he told us,” piped Riggs with 
a flash of loyalty. 

“ Of course he did, and he still does, and because he 
is still only twenty years ahead of his time he’s all the 
more dangerous.” 

“ Let’s get back to this payroll,” blurted Stoughton 
who was getting more and more uncomfortable. 

“ Fishing’s pretty good up there, let him fish for it.” 
The voice of Birch was like ice. He was one of those 
who by nature are fitted for cold and ruthless action 
in time of stress. Most of his money had been made 
273 


THE RAPIDS 


across the dissecting table of enterprises, and not at 
their birth. He was a financial surgeon, but no mid- 
wife, and had only been magnetized into his past sup- 
port by the hypnotic personality of Clark. He was 
grimly mindful that Marsham, after waiting for years 
for his opening, had got more than even. Birch’s cold 
mind now wondered for the first time whether, after 
all, the cut throat game he had once loved to play was 
worth the candle. Here was American credit and ef- 
fort massacred by American ruthlessness and revenge. 
Marsham had pounced upon a weak point in the Con- 
solidated’s armor and pierced deep into the body cor- 
porate. He had struck to kill. 

“ And would you shut down the pulp mill — mar- 
ket’s good now ? ” persisted Stoughton. 

“ I’d rivet the whole thing tight. The railway never 
paid, — at least directly — that we could reckon. It’s 
costing more to ship pulp on our own boats than the 
rate at which we could ship by contract — and if they 
are not going to bring back coke, why run them? 
Gentlemen, this means a smash — an interval of 
anxiety, discomfort, loss of prestige, and — ” 

“ Go on, Elisha — ” barked Riggs. “ Oh, please go 
on!” 

“ Prestige — and later reconstruction. In the mean- 
time, we don’t spend a cent on running anything, and 
find out exactly what we owe. Then comes new 
money, and,” he added cynically, “ a new bunch of 
directors.” 

“ And who will arrange that?” Riggs demanded 
abruptly. 


274 


THE CRASH 


“ One Robert Fisher Clark — if he has not lost all 
his power of magnetism.” 

“ Aren’t you guessing a little too fast ? ” 

“ No, it’s quite possible. His argument will be that 
we didn’t back him to the necessary limit — that another 
million would have done it — and,” concluded Birch 
reflectively, “ that may be perfectly true. But God 
knows we did what we could. What’s this one ? ” He 
glanced at Wimperley, who was reading a telegram 
just brought in. 

Waiting your remittance for payroll, necessary that this 
be provided to-day, otherwise I anticipate serious disturbance 
here. It is advisable that I do not come to Philadelphia just 
yet as my leaving here would be wrongly interpreted. 

R. F. C. 

There fell a moment’s silence, instantly recognized 
by all four as the precursor of grave events. Birch 
had spoken the thought that lurked in all their minds. 
To continue running meant another payroll to be met. 

It now appeared suicidal to have stretched their re- 
sources to the limit of their credit, but not one of them 
had remotely dreamed that a few thousand tons of steel 
rails were to drag the whole structure to toppling 
destruction. Birch, as usual, first pulled himself to- 
gether. 

“ It’s put up or shut up, and we’ve got to tell Clark 
right now.” 

Little Riggs sighed despondently. This meeting 
would soon be over and the decision made, after which 
he would have to face a totally unexpected set of con- 
275 


THE RAPIDS 


ditions and a circle of friends and investors who would 
regard him with close and uncomfortable interest. 

“ Well, I suppose it’s shut up ! ” he hazarded un- 
steadily. 

Birch looked inquiringly at the other two, who 
nodded without speaking, then began to write. The 
rest did not even glance at each other, but found ab- 
sorption in walls and windows and the big map of poig- 
nant memory, while the long, waxen fingers moved 
inexorably on. 

“ What about this?” 

“ ‘ Under existing conditions and the impossibility of 
making immediate financial arrangements for current 
needs directors decide best to close down all work of 
every kind at once, giving notice that this will be only 
temporary. You will report here as soon as in your 
judgment you can wisely come down.’ Is that all 
right ? ” 

Stoughton bit at his thumbnail and nodded. “ I sup- 
pose so — and there’ll be hell to pay in St. Marys, eh, 
Wimperley? Our friend the chief constable will be 
working over time. Remember the beggar ? The 
damn fool was right too.” 

“ Yes, it’s all right,” said Wimperley, “ and now I 
suppose there’ll be writs and injunctions ’enough to fill 
the tailrace. We’d better get out and arrange some 
support for the market. Birch, you compound a com- 
forting statement for the papers. We adjourn till to- 
morrow at nine-thirty.” 

They did adjourn, but lingered for an hour digging 
into the past seven years. It was a talk such as one 
276 


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might expect under the circumstances. Charged with 
an apprehension but thinly veiled by manner and 
speech, events took on for them no perspective. They 
were too close at hand. All this was so intimately their 
own and Clark’s responsibility that every other con- 
sideration became instantly submerged, and it was a 
matter of living for the day, if not for the hour. Had 
any one at this time told Wimperley or Stoughton that 
for a pace or two they had merely fallen out of step in 
the march of progress, and that however depressing 
might be the present aspect of affairs it did not really 
affect the preordained outcome, they would have flouted 
the thought. It is not given to many men to place 
themselves correctly in the general scheme of the world, 
and to fairly estimate their own contribution. Thus 
it was that Wimperley and his associates read on the 
screen of the present only the word “ failure,” and were 
conscious chiefly of a certain self contempt for the 
arduous part they had played. At the last moment suc- 
cess had been snatched from their grasp. 

Stoughton walked slowly home. He was thinking 
of Manson, the pessimist, who had been right. And 
such is the interlinking chain of life. Manson, at this 
moment, was sitting in his office, while his mind harked 
aimlessly back to the first time he had met the men from 
Philadelphia. He stared at a telegram that trembled 
between his thick fingers. His broad face was gray 
and ghastly. He had been here motionless for some 
time, when a gentle knock sounded at the door and his 
wife came timidly in. One glance at his face, and her 
arms were round his neck. 

277 


THE RAPIDS 


“ What is it, Peter ? ” she quavered. 

He did not look up but held the message so that she 
might read it. 

Sold you out to-day on stop loss order at thirty- 
two margin being exhausted. Farthing. 

She read it wonderingly. “ What does it mean; who 
is Farthing? ” 

“ My Toronto broker — or at least he was,” said 
Manson heavily. 

“ But I don’t understand, dear.” 

“ No, I didn’t suppose you would ; it means I lose 
my hundred thousand, that’s all.” 

“ Had you a hundred thousand ? ” she whispered. 

“ Very, very nearly, and now I haven’t anything, — 
that is, I didn’t make a cent.” 

She drew a long breath. “ Peter, tell me just how 
we stand.” 

“ Exactly where we did the day a man named Clark 
came to St. Marys,” he said dully, “ with not a cent 
more.” 

There followed a little silence, and the tears began to 
roll down her cheeks. He put his arm round her, and 
perceived, with astonishment, that they were tears of 
happiness. 

“ Peter dear,” she said very softly, “ you don’t know 
how glad I am that it’s all over.” 

“ You mean the hundred thousand ! ” He stared at 
her blankly. 

“ Yes, just that. I know you won’t understand, but 
things have never been the same for me since you began 
278 


THE CRASH 


to try and make it. You were different — everything 
was different” 

“ But if I had made it you would have been glad.” 

“ Perhaps — I don’t know. I’m rather afraid of a 
hundred thousand dollars,” she began to smile a little 
through her tears, “ but now I feel ten years younger. 
Is that what 4 stop loss’ means — you don’t actually 
lose anything? ” 

“ Nothing more than I have sent him in this case.” 

“ And you didn’t send him my money — not that 
it’s much.” 

“ Good God, Mary, no ! ” 

" Peter,” she began gently, “ you weren’t happy all 
the time — I could tell that. You were trying to do 
something you weren’t made for — I could see that 
too. You are very strong — but it isn’t that kind of 
strength. People like us can’t do that kind of thing — 
we feel too much. We haven’t got much, but it repre- 
sents a lot and our lives are in it, and this hundred 
thousand dollars wouldn’t have been that kind of 
money, would it ? ” 

“No, I suppose not.” Manson felt the tumult in 
his breast subsiding. 

“ I know you did it for me and the children, but we 
don’t want you to speculate for us. We just want you 
— as we used to have you. We have enough of every- 
thing else, and we’ll all be very happy again. Oh, my 
dear, big, faithful husband.” She slipped into his arms 
and put her head on his great shoulder. 

And Manson, holding her to him, felt new springs of 
emotion unseal themselves within him. The past few 
279 


THE RAPIDS 


years had not been happy ones. As his profits grew, 
he was conscious of the spectre of anxiety at his elbow. 
It had been a simple thing to make a thousand and then 
ten and then twenty, till, as he marched ever faster 
toward the siren call, he perceived that he was no 
longer in his own country, but one in which the land- 
marks were all changed. Now, with the throb of his 
wife’s heart against his own, he acknowledged defeat, 
but perhaps it was defeat of that which was not him- 
self. 

Presently the little woman stirred, brushed the tears 
from her cheeks, and, smiling, kissed him tenderly. 

“ I’m happier than I’ve been for years. Did you 
ever guess that people here thought you were a rich 
man? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, they did, at least some of them, Mrs. Dibbott 
for one.” 

“ Then you can put Mrs. Dibbott right.” 

“ Will what has happened at the works makes much 
difference here ? ” 

“ Probably a good deal. I’m looking for trouble.” 

“ Up at Ironville? ” she said anxiously. 

“ But I’m good for it.” He stretched his great arms, 
feeling strangely free and fit for his duty. 

“ What about Mr. Clark? ” 

At this Manson grew suddenly thoughtful. Caught 
up in his own anxiety, he had never considered Clark. 
The figure of the latter began to take on strange 
proportions. What, he wondered, had Clark lost? 
Within twenty hours of the time he maintained his 
280 


THE CRASH 


unaltered belief, the bottom had dropped out. Or, he 
queried, had Clark merely said this to prevent him from 
throwing his Stockton the market? He pondered over 
this, and decided that five thousand shares were 
negligible amongst millions. Then he felt his wife’s 
inquiring glance. 

“ I’m sorry for Clark, but I guess he’s wise enough 
to take care of himself.” 

“ I hope so. I’ve only spoken to him once, but I like 
him.” 

She disappeared presently, leaving him busy with 
special instructions to the police — in case of disturb- 
ance. She did not worry about that, being chiefly con- 
scious that a load was gone from her spirit. Singing 
softly to herself, she went out with gladness in her eyes, 
and halfway to Filmer’s store encountered Mrs. Bow- 
ers. The latter looked pale and tired. Bowers, for 
the past twenty- four hours, had been a much tried man 
— and his wife reflected it. 

“ Good evening,” said the latter, “ you look very 
fresh. How do you manage it? ” 

Mrs. Manson, suddenly recalled to earth, smiled 
gently. “ I’m rather happy to-day. I hope Mr. 
Bowers is not very anxious.” 

“ It’s no use saying he isn’t, but he doesn’t talk about 
it. How’s your husband ? ” 

“ Splendid.” 

“ Well, you’re the only untroubled pair I’ve heard 
of to-day. My husband’s in a frightful temper be- 
cause he didn’t sell our land six months ago. He says 
we’ll never sell it now, but I’m just as glad. Is the 
281 


THE RAPIDS 


whole thing going to break up? ” Mrs. Bowers swung 
her parasol toward the rapids. 

“I — I don’t really know anything about it,” said 
the little woman with a touch of nervousness from 
which she recovered instantly, then, smiling, “ perhaps 
I’ll come over to-morrow.” 

“ Do, there’s a heap to talk about, and smile like that 
just as long as you can — the town needs it.” 

She walked on, her mind very busy. Without ques- 
tion something excellent had happened to the Mansons 
— and in a time like this ! Manson was said to be in 
the way of making a fortune, and now, she concluded, 
he had made it. There was no other explanation for 
an expression like his wife’s when such grim rumors 
were abroad. A little later she told Mrs. Worden, 
and both the judge and Bowers heard of it, and next 
day the story reached a dozen houses in St. Marys. 
The constable, it was said, for all his pessimism, had 
been sharper than Clark himself. 

But Manson was only a leaf picked up by the edge 
of the storm in which Clark sat, its unapproachable 
center. The telegram compiled by Birch and signed by 
Wimperley, as president, was on his desk, just as the 
secretary had laid it before he went silently out, unable 
to meet the mystifying glance of those gray eyes. 
Clark had never moved nor looked up, nor did he till 
half an hour later, when he dictated a notice to be 
posted throughout the works. “All operations will 
temporarily cease this night at six o'clock. Employees 
will be notified when to apply for their wages , zvhich 
will shortly be paid in full. The accounting staff will 
282 


THE CRASH 


remain at duty.” His voice was level and absolutely 
expressionless. Then he went out, and, taking the 
broad trail to the rapids, seated himself a few minutes 
later in a well remembered place. 

The moments lengthened into hours and still he did 
not move. The sun showed its red disc through the 
lattice girders of the great bridge, and touched the flash- 
ing waters into gold. It was seven years since he had 
sat here first, and he looked expectantly about for the 
crested kingfisher. The voice of the river seemed un- 
usually loud, and there was no drone from the works. 
He began to go over it all, but, desisting from sheer 
inability, pitched his attention on the rapids. Here, 
at least, was that which had no shadow of turning. 
Distinguishing the multitude of notes that lifted their 
booming uproar, he yielded to the sensation that he was 
in the midst of them, being carried to the sea. 

To-night they seemed relentless, but that again was 
the reflection of his mood. If he was going down, 
Wimperley and the rest were going with him. Finally 
he was able, at some command from this tumult, to 
disassociate himself from the present and go back to 
the beginning. Retracing each step, he decided that, 
were a parallel occasion to arise, he would do the same 
again. He had listened to the voice of the hills and 
woods and water, rather than to the voice of Phila- 
delphia, and this, he ultimately concluded, was right. 
There was no time to brood or forecast the future. 
What his soul craved was to be persuaded that it was 
justified up to this hour. Only thus could he find 
strength for that which was yet to come. 

283 


THE RAPIDS 


Carrying his solitary reverie still further, he was 
assured that it would be for him and him alone to find 
the way out. Wimperley and the others were able men 
as far as they went, but just as they had always loitered 
behind his imagination, so now would they be slow in 
deciphering the riddle in store. He had brought them 
in, and it would be left for him to bring others in also. 
Very easily he visualized what had taken place in 
Philadelphia, and the group in Wimperley’s office stood 
out quite clearly. He felt no particular sympathy 
for them, nor did it appear that the responsibility was 
primarily his own because it was his brain that con- 
ceived the whole gigantic machine. They had acted 
according to their final judgment, so had he. With 
small and genuine investors the case was different, but 
Clark was well aware that Consolidated stock had been 
a favorite Pennsylvania gamble for years. As to his 
own employees, he knew that the works must ultimately 
go on and could not go on without them. This left 
only himself to be considered, and at the thought this 
extraordinary man smiled confidently. He was 
stranger to that fear which is based on uncertainty of 
one’s own resources. 

An hour after sundown he went home and, sending 
for Bowers, the two sat talking earnestly. For Bowers 
it had been a day of vicissitude which he was only 
partially competent to face. Rooted out of a small 
practice in a small village, and caught up in the sweep 
of irresistible progress, he had never had to fight for 
his point. The weight and momentum Clark put be- 
fore him were too great for that. But now every angle 
284 


THE CRASH 


of the Consolidated Company seemed to offer itself for 
frontal attack. He put this to his chief in justification 
of his own anxiety. 

“ It’s been a matter of writs and injunctions all day. 
There are enough in my office now to paper the rail 
mill.” 

“ Well, why should you worry? ” 

Bowers glanced up with surprise. “ Eh? ” 

“ You’re doing your duty, you can’t do anything 
more. But perhaps you feel chagrined at being asso- 
ciated with me in the present difficulty. You needn’t 
expostulate, — I can quite understand it.” 

The lawyer turned a brick red. It was quite true. 
He had begun to look on this calamity as one for which 
he and Clark were both partly responsible. 

“If you worry — and it’s quite absurd that you 
should — your value automatically decreases. Has it 
occurred to you that, from now on, the importance of 
your position is vastly increased? We shall look to 
you more than ever. I dare not worry — there’s too 
much to be done. You were our advisor, now you are 
our protector against unfair attack — and there’ll be 
lots of it. What’s more, Bowers, you are the only one 
who is sure of his money.” 

Bowers nodded. He began to feel more comfort- 
able. 

“ What’s going on in St. Marys ? ” 

“ Nothing much yet — they don’t know what to get 
ready for. Filmer and the rest are sending out ac- 
counts they hope to collect, a good deal of property is 
on offer without any takers, but, at the bottom, I don’t 
285 


THE RAPIDS 


think the town is rattled. There’s a sort of feeling 
that the works are too big to be wiped out.” 

Clark smiled gravely. He was aware that to the 
townsfolk the works had become part of the landscape, 
and, imaginatively, not much more. But just as they 
could not contemplate the obliteration of part of the 
landscape, so it was difficult to conceive permanent idle- 
ness at the works. It was a case of the immobility 
of the non-speculative mind, which is lethargic in hours 
of exaltation but comfortably steadfast in times of 
stress. 

“ Listen,” he said earnestly. “ There’s an element in 
Ironville which may soon have to be controlled by 
force ; but as to St. Marys what you’ve got to do is to 
spread the feeling that there’s nothing like confidence 
to maintain business. Can’t you see that if your office 
were knee deep in writs it doesn’t affect you? You’ve 
got to remain the efficient, smoothly working, imper- 
sonal machine. So have I — and so has every one who 
takes the responsibility for the actions of those of lesser 
intelligence. Leaving out first and second causes — 
we’re all doing just what we’re meant to do, and it 
doesn’t matter who or what meant it. Wimperley 
and the others will be up here soon, and regard me as a 
crazy idealist who inveigled them into building a house 
of cards. The heads of departments — at- least some 
of them — will look at me and wonder how it was 
that I gave them any confidence in the future. Hun- 
dreds of creditors will consider me personally respon- 
sible because they have to wait for their money, and 
about two thousand Poles and Hungarians will want to 
286 


THE CRASH 


kill me to gratify their sense of personal injury. On 
top of that, ninety-nine men out of a hundred will 
forget all about my seven years’ work, and that I started 
with nothing, and will point to the Consolidated as an 
excellent example of misdirected energy. For a little 
while little men will smile with commiseration and say 
* He did the best he could,’ but,” and here Clark’s voice 
deepened, “ only for a little while. Now, friend Bow- 
ers, where do I stand with you ? ” 

Bowers got up and paced the terrace irresolutely, 
glancing now and then at the motionless, gray clad 
figure in the wicker chair. He was suddenly and pro- 
foundly moved. In the past he had seen but one side 
of Clark, and this sudden depth of feeling was startling. 
He knew that if he still took his chief as the crowd took 
him, Clark would not apparently be affected in any 
degree, but would only classify and finally put him 
away with his own kind. 

“ Don’t think for a moment I’m making any appeal,” 
went on the steady voice. “ It really doesn’t matter 
whether you believe in me or not. There’s just one 
thing supremely important at the present time, which 
is my belief in myself. That’s my anchorage — it al- 
ways has been and will be. I don’t consider that we 
owe each other anything, but just the same I would like 
to know where you place me.” 

Bowers had a swift vision of what he was seven 
years ago, and set it against what he was now. Then, 
with full consciousness of the complete confidence 
that was placed in him by Clark, he turned and held 
out his hand. 


287 


THE RAPIDS 


“ I place you,” he said a little jerkily, “ just where 
you want to be placed.” 

Clark merely touched the extended fingers, but his 
face brightened and a smile crept into his eyes. 

“ I thought you did, but — ” he added quizzically, “ I 
had to work to find it out, didn’t I ? ” 

Bowers nodded. He felt like a field that had been 
plowed so deep that it would yield better than ever 
before. He reflected, too, that the experience gained 
in years of success should serve well in times of ad- 
versity. 

“ What’s on the program ? ” he asked. 

“ The men will begin to drift in from the mines and 
lumber camps. Then it’s a matter of sitting tight till 
they’re paid off.” 

Bowers thrust out his lips. He had seen men come 
in from the woods with their pockets full of money, 
and that was bad enough, but without money ! 

“ I’ve had a talk with Manson who seems good for 
it, and the works will be under heavy guard. That’s 
all we can do in the meantime. I’m going to Phila- 
delphia as soon as possible.” 

“ But not at once? ” 

Clark smiled. “ No, not at once.” 


XXII.— THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


B OWERS went thoughtfully home and, next morn- 
ing, flung himself into his work with renewed 
courage. He had need of it — they all had need of it. 
There were now thousands who waited for their pay, 
and daily these ranks were swelled by others who 
drifted in from the woods. Hundreds of merchants 
began to refuse credit, though Filmer valiantly used all 
his resources. St. Marys was, in truth, stupefied, and 
when the first shock began to smooth itself out, the 
reality of the thing became grimly apparent, and then 
arose the first rumor of trouble in Ironville, that 
straggling settlement of shacks where dwelt the bone 
and muscle of the works. 

To the Swede and Polander there was no suggestion 
of achievement in the vast buildings in which they 
labored. It was only the place where they earned their 
living. They worked amongst giant mechanisms be- 
side which they were puny, but theirs was a life of 
force and strength which took from them the fear of 
anything that was merely human. Thus surprise 
changed to resentment, and resentment began to resolve 
itself into a slow and consuming anger. The works 
were dead, but in the main office the accounting staff 
was bending desperately over statements imperatively 
demanded by Philadelphia. The black browed Hun- 
garians saw the lights at night, and felt that they were 
289 


THE RAPIDS 


being played with by those more powerful than them- 
selves. If a furnace man was discharged, why keep 
on these scribblers? 

Outside St. Marys the news ran apace. Toronto 
papers dwelt on it, and the Board of Trade read it with 
regret mingled with thankfulness that Clark had em- 
barked on no financial campaigns in their own city. 
Thorpe went carefully over the Philadelphia accept- 
ances in his vault, and wondered what they were worth. 
To St. Marys set out a stream of representatives of 
various creditor companies, that filled the local hotels 
and journeyed out to the works and came back unsatis- 
fied. Philadelphia dispatches were devoured, and the 
word “ reorganization ” was one to charm with. One 
by one, the Company’s steamers slid up to the long 
docks, made fast and drew their fires, till it seemed that 
the works, like a great octopus, was withdrawing every 
arm and filament it ever had radiated, and was coiling 
them endlessly at its cold and clammy side. Yet, 
for all of this, it did not seem possible that the whole 
structure was tumbling, the structure on which so many 
years of labor — so much genius and enthusiasm — so 
many millions — had been lavished, until one afternoon 
a drunken Swede threw a stone into a butcher’s window 
in Ironville and, putting forth a horny hand, seized a 
side of bacon and set forth, reeling, down the street. 
Two hours later the startled chief accountant, from a 
window in his office, saw a swarm of a thousand men 
surge through the big gates of the works and, trampling 
the guard, flow irregularly forward. 

The mob spilt on, a river of big strong men, unaware 
290 


THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


of its own strength. They were not bent on willful 
destruction, but the whole mass was animated by an 
inchoate desire to find out something for itself. At the 
door of the rail mill stood the superintendent and his 
firemen, with drawn revolvers. The rioters liked these 
men because they worked with and understood them. 
They were not associated with the present trouble. So 
on to the administration building, where the office staff 
looked out, petrified with fear. Here, the mob decided, 
was another breed, so there commenced a hammering 
on the big oaken door and stones showered through 
the windows. 

At this, Hobbs, stricken with mortal terror, and 
oblivious of the girls who gathered around him, lost his 
head. There was no escape downstairs, but opposite 
his desk was a grated iron window that led on to an 
adjoining roof. Noting it desperately, he heaved up 
his soft body and made a plunge for safety. But such 
was his bulk that, though head, arms and shoulders 
went through, he stuck there, anchored in an iron grip. 

“ Help ! ” he called chokingly, “ Help ! ” 

The mob looked up and stared, when from the rear 
ranks came a bull-like roar of laughter. Then another 
burst out and another, till from the ground spouted a 
fountain of jeers, hoots and ridicule that reached the 
fat man as he hung suspended, with purple face and 
gesticulating arms. 

Clark, in his office, waiting coolly for what might 
come, caught the change in the note of riot and, step- 
ping into the next room, saw the legs of his comptroller 
brandished in the air. The rest of him was invisible* 
291 


THE RAPIDS 


and still in the square outside rocked the booming 
shouts of Slavic and Scandinavian mirth. A moment 
later Hobbs was dragged back, with tom clothing, 
swollen neck and scratched body. Clark glanced at 
him contemptuously and went out. Then the doors 
opened, and he was on the front steps. 

The mob saw him and held its breath. Few of them 
had ever been so near him before. He stood with a 
quiet smile on his face and a light in his keen eyes, and, 
in the momentary hush, began to speak. There was 
no fear in voice or attitude. The wind, blowing from 
the rapids, brought the echo of their clamor to the 
upper windows so that the accounting staff heard not 
a word, but the mob heard, and presently the big Pole 
laughed, just as he had laughed at Hobbs’ distorted 
face suspended above him. It was contagious, and 
Clark, playing upon the mood of the moment, drove 
home his point. 

The money was coming, and he himself would stay 
there till it came. In the meantime, the money would 
be slower to arrive if there was trouble, and that was 
all he had to say. 

There followed a little hesitation, then an indefinite 
movement, and the crowd began to shuffle toward the 
shattered gates. As it dwindled Clark glanced over 
his shoulder and saw a man within twenty feet, both 
hands thrust eloquently into his bulging coat pockets. 

“Thanks very much, Belding, I’m glad it wasn’t 
necessary,” he said crisply, and vanished inside the 
big doors. 

The engineer knew better than to follow, but was 
292 


THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


bitterly disappointed. He had hoped for some word 
of comfort, but to not a single employee had Clark said 
anything of explanation. It was not his habit, and 
he looked to the intelligence of each man to carry him 
through. And this was typical of his invariable atti- 
tude toward those with whom he came in contact. He 
gauged them by the degree to which they contributed 
to the work on hand, and just now the only work on 
hand was that which none but himself could carry out. 
In personalities Clark was not interested, but identified 
them only by some very definite achievement he was 
able to hang round their necks like a label. 

Belding saw to it that his own offices were guarded 
and walked to the head of the rapids. He felt numbed. 
If Clark had conceived the works, he himself had built 
them, and, as they grew under his hand, he felt that 
something of his own existence went forth with every 
stroke of a drill, and that a fragment of his brain lay 
in every course of masonry. Like all true engineers, 
he delighted in the physical expression of his ability, 
and here had been such an opportunity as few engineers 
ever realized. He felt not so much dejected as dumb- 
founded that so much skill and labor could be brought 
to a full stop just as it reached its permanent stride. 
In his eyes the figure of Clark had long achieved titanic 
proportions. Innumerable things had been demon- 
strated to be possible, and to be chief engineer of such 
an enterprise had been, thought Belding, all that any 
man could ask. It was true that in the fatigue of 
work he had often imagined that Clark was going too 
fast, but always the thing had been done. Now it 
293 


THE RAPIDS 


seemed the ironical jest of the gods that a shade too 
much carbon in a steel rail should wreck the whole 
endeavor. 

And there was Elsie. He had never been able to 
give her up. Against the glamour of his chief’s per- 
sonality he had nothing to put forward except a whole 
souled worship, and Elsie, it appeared, preferred the 
invitation of the older man’s romantic career. Sub- 
consciously, Belding decided that the thing was wrong 
and against nature, for he was marked by a certain 
simple belief in the general fairness of life. He clung 
to the doctrine of compensation, and held himself trust- 
ingly open to whatever good influences might reach 
him. Elsie was the highest influence of all. In Clark 
he had found a stimulus that nerved his brain to great 
accomplishments. But Elsie and Clark had together 
wounded his very spirit. 

Clark, in the quiet of his private office, was thinking 
not of Belding or Elsie, but of the mob that had trailed 
so uncertainly out of the big gates. He had played for 
time and he had won — but that was all. Sooner or 
later, driven by the impossibility of living without pay, 
the mob would return, and in a less placable mood. He 
turned to the telephone. “ I want Mr. Filmer.” In a 
moment he was speaking to the mayor. 

“ What happened up here to-day is but a taste of 
what’s coming. You’d better get out the militia, if 
Manson can’t handle it. Bowers tells me I can do very 
little from a point of law, and we look to you for pro- 
tection.” 

” The militia won’t help you much.” Filmer’s voice 
294 


THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


was a little shaky. His son was in the militia, but he 
himself had never taken that body very seriously. It 
was a matter of uniform, a band and a field day or 
two in the year — that was all. 

“ Well, Bowers tells me that if we kill any one in 
protecting the place we’ll have a nasty time of it, so 
it’s up to you. If the local militia are no gcfod, get 
some up from Toronto. I warn you they’ll be needed. 
Ask Belding if you like, he saw it all.” 

He leaned back and began a cold blooded survey of 
the situation. He was not in any way desperate, but he 
turned involuntarily to the resources of his own brain 
for some solution. It was certain that no immediate 
help could be expected from Philadelphia. He was 
left quite officially and deliberately to stem the tide as 
best he could, and, in spite of the gravity of the mo- 
ment, smiled at the thought that his directors leaned on 
him in their extremity. They did not know what to 
do, therefore he must know. Then suddenly his mind 
reverted to Semple, and he spent the next few moments 
in profound thought. “ Get hold of Mr. Semple,” he 
said to his secretary’, “ and bring him here.” 

In half an hour Semple appeared, flustered and a 
little pale. A visit to the works just now filled him 
with apprehension. It seemed like smoking in a 
magazine. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” said Clark, smiling at his 
agitation. 

Semple drew a long breath and, noting the thickness 
of the office walls, felt a little safer. 

“ That’s what I was going to ask you ” 

295 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Only a slight difficulty that you will help to put 
right.” 

Semple stared with astonishment. The bottom had 
apparently fallen out of the works, but Clark was as 
cool as ever. 

“ Help ? ” he demanded, puzzled. Clark evidently 
did not stand to lose much in the smash. “ You’re 
holding these fellows, aren’t you? ” 

“ Yes, for the immediate present, but we’ll have to do 
more. That’s where you come in.” 

The member for Algoma was at sea, and said so. 

“ You represent the Government here,” went on 
Clark, “ and we’ve spent seventeen million dollars in 
these works. Do you see the conclusion ? ” 

“ No, I don’t.” 

“ Your government must help us over the stile. Just 
so long as those men remain unpaid, life won’t be very 
safe in St. Marys.” 

Semple looked round apprehensively. “ But my 
government doesn’t live here. What have I got to do 
with it?” 

“ I don’t know, but, by virtue of pressure you will 
exert, the Government must help. What’s the Liberal 
majority in Ontario? ” 

“ One. I’m it.” 

“ Then you keep the Premier in power, and he’s 
hanging on to power like grim death.” 

“ But I don’t see — ” 

“ It’s simple enough. If you settle this affair to the 
satisfaction of local people, you’ll secure Algoma to 
the Liberal party, so long as that party wants it.” 

296 


THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


“ By God ! ” said Semple, startled. 

Clark apparently did not hear him. “ There’s an- 
other thing — to set those works in motion again will 
be the biggest advertisement any government in Canada 
ever had. It will swing the labor vote — it will secure 
the merchants’ support.” He paused, then leant for- 
ward and poured into Semple the full pressure — the 
accumulated effort of mind and spirit. “ Ample se- 
curity is available. I will make repayment the first 
obligation of the Company — it will forestall bonds 
and everything else. What I want, and what you will 
find for me, is only a fraction of the sum that has been 
put straight into this Province ; and it’s not much more 
than we have already paid in mineral and lumber dues 
and taxes.” 

“ How much? ” said Semple in a fascinated whisper. 

“ Two million dollars.” 

“ But — ” 

“ There aren’t any buts.” 

“ Do you owe that in wages ? ” Semple was aghast. 

“ Wages are only a small part of what must be paid 
at once.” 

“ Where does Philadelphia come in? ” 

“ Philadelphia,” smiled Clark, “ has left the entire 
matter to me in the meantime. They are making ar- 
rangements which may not be consummated for some 
months. We can thank a prominent American specu- 
lator for most of this. But the Province of Ontario 
owes us something. Doesn’t it occur to you,” he added 
slowly, “ how your personal reputation will be af- 
fected ? ” 

297 


THE RAPIDS 


Semple blinked several times and very rapidly. 
“ I’ll wire at once,” he said, with a long breath. 

“ You’ll do nothing of the kind. You’ll go down 
yourself this afternoon. You know your man, and I 
know him; and he knows the works. He’s been here 
several times. Put the matter straight, — tell him that 
we are dealing with forces that can only be met in one 
way. It’s either this, or destruction and bloodshed. 
I’ve asked Filmer to wire for troops. Mr. Semple, 
what you are about to make is a new move on the 
chessboard. Your man is shrewd enough to see it, and 
it’s the new moves that win. This is not so much 
politics as economics — tell him that. I’d go with you 
— but I must not leave St. Marys just now. Wire me 
as soon as possible — you’ve just time to catch your 
train.” 

The color climbed into Semple’s cheeks, and he went 
quickly out with his head up. Clark glanced after him 
and his lips twisted into a smile. 

“ I give him forty-eight hours. If it doesn’t come 
by that — we’ll ring down the curtain,” he said to him- 
self thoughtfully. 

He went out and walked, for houfs, through the 
deserted buildings. They were full of hollow mock- 
ery. Watchmen, posted by Belding at strategic points, 
glanced after him curiously. He seemed lonely and 
diminutive in this mechanical wilderness of his own 
creation. They wondered how a man felt in such a 
position as his at a time like this. He dared not go 
to the rapids, lest he read in their uproar some new 
and menacing note. He thought lingeringly of Elsie. 

298 


THE MASTER MIND AT WORK 


She seemed far from this crisis, and at the same time 
curiously a part of it. Never did he feel more certain 
of the girl’s affection than now, and it came to him what 
a refuge a woman’s breast might be for a man in such 
case as himself. In the moment his forceful brain 
protested at the thought of refuge. 

He tramped on with a slow wonder at the magnitude 
of his own activities. Here and there, individual 
buildings stimulated poignant memories of the occasion 
that brought them forth. The sulphur plant assumed 
an aspect of derision. Beneath the huge dimensions of 
the head-race he seemed to discern the obliterated canal 
over which St. Marys came to grief. Was he him- 
self to be brought down by its titanic successor? He 
stared up the lake, comparing himself with the voy- 
ageur who had once floated out of this wide immensity 
to trade at St. Marys. He, too, had been trading at 
St. Marys. “ Big magic ! ” old Shingwauk had said, 
when his dark eyes beheld the works. Was it, after 
all, barely possible they were nothing but magic ? 


XXIII.— CONCERNING THE RIOT 


N EXT morning came a rap at his office door and 
Baudette entered, treading very lightly. Clark 
looked up and shook his head. 

“ I haven’t got any money yet.” 

“ I don’t want any money.” 

The gray eyes softened a little. “ You’re the only 
man I’ve met who doesn’t. What is it? ” 

Baudette pointed out of the window. 

Clark got up and glanced at the open space in front 
of the administration building. There lounged some 
fifty men, the pick of Baudette’s crew, big and broad 
sh6uldered, in light colored woollen jackets, shoepacks 
and blazing shirts. Each toyed with an ax handle that 
swung lightly between strong, brown fingers. They 
were a loose-jointed lot, active as cats, and moved with 
the superlative ease of the skilled 1 woodsman. Clark’s 
jaw thrust out and he glanced grimly at his visitor. 

“If they think they can get it that way, they’re mis- 
taken.” 

“ You don’t understand,” came the even voice. 
“ These are my friends, and yours. St. Marys is full 
of people who are after you. They are hungry for 
money, and they’re coming for it. This crowd reckons 
their money is all right and will help you talk back.” 

Clark drew a long breath and caught the clear blue of 
Baudette’s eyes. Then he nodded and began to smile. 
3 °° 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


“ Thank you, friend,” he said with a catch in his 
breath. “ I might have known it.” 

Hours dragged by. That night there was looting in 
Ironville, and the local grocers suffered a sudden deple- 
tion of stock. Morning broke, gray and threatening, 
while through shack and cabin an ugly temper spread 
steadily. Clark perceived that the real thing was com- 
ing now. Once or twice he thought of Semple, who 
must already be closeted with the Premier. 

Just before midday a howling mob gathered swiftly 
outside the big gates, when instantly Baudette and his 
fifty axemen ran up and joined the guards. The 
crowd increased, and there went out an imperative 
summons to Manson who, with his thirty police, ranged 
himself half a mile away on the road to St. Marys. 
But for this the town was utterly unprotected. Came 
the pad pad of flying feet, and Fisette dashed up, 
swinging a prospecting pick. He grinned at the big 
constable. 

“ By Gar ! ” he panted, “ I guess we catch hell now.” 

Followed a little pause, broken only by the deep 
threatening note of the crowd. Then Belding felt a 
touch on his shoulder. 

“ Open the gates,” said Clark evenly, “ I want to 
speak to them.” 

The engineer stared at the set face. His chief’s eyes 
were like polished steel, and his jaw thrust out. There 
was no fear here. 

“ Stay inside, sir. They’ll kill you.” 

The front rank caught sight of the erect figure. 
Then silence fell over them and spread slowly through 
301 


THE RAPIDS 


the dark-browed multitude. Clark raised an impera- 
tive finger. The gates opened a fraction, and in front 
of them stood the man in whom the rioters perceived 
the head of their present world. 

“ I want to tell you that your money is coming, and 
that I stay here till you are paid,” rang the clear voice. 

For an instant there came no answer, but presently 
from the rear ranks rose again a bull-like roar. 

“ You tell us that last week.” 

Followed a murmur that ran through the packed 
mass of broad shoulders. 

“ I tell you again — and it’s true ! ” 

For reply, a short iron bolt came hurtling through 
the air. It took Clark on the cheek. He seemed not 
to feel it, but stood undaunted, while a trickle of blood 
crept down his smooth face. The sight of it seemed 
to rouse some latent fury in the mob, and a deep growl 
sounded ominously. He felt himself jerked suddenly 
back, and Belding and Baudette jumped in front of 
him. The woodsman balanced a great shining axe, 
and the engineer’s automatic gleamed dully. 

“ Get inside, sir, quick ! ” 

For the first time in his life, Clark felt himself passed 
from hand to hand, and landed, fuming, on the other 
side of the big gates. The voice of the mob lifted to 
an infuriated howl. Simultaneously the rear ranks 
pressed forward. 

Fighting began the next instant. Belding’s revolver 
barked viciously, while he shot low at legs and feet. 
Three men went down to be engulfed in the oncoming 
tide. Baudette was standing firm, his cold blue eyes 

3°2 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


alight with the fire of battle. His broad axe was cut- 
ting swift circles around him, while he dodged a shower 
of missiles. To right and left of him fifty axe handles 
rose and fell like flails, and behind them was all the skill 
and sinew of those who dwell amongst big timber. 
Then a jagged fragment of iron casting took Baudette 
on the knee, and he went down. 

The battle grew, whi-le the faithful ranks thinned 
visibly. Just through the big gates lay the battlemented 
works, and toward them pressed the mob, now drunk 
with the hunger to destroy. At the moment when it 
seemed that the living barrier must collapse, the rioters 
wheeled to meet a new attack. With the sound of 
fighting, ManJson pushed on and now struck hard. His 
thirty constables set their batons going, and there came 
the heavy crack of loaded wood on thick skulls. Fi- 
sette, his eyes gleaming, was tapping like a deadly 
woodpecker with his pick, and the impetus of this on- 
slaught drove a formidable wedge into the surging 
mass. Manson’s great voice bellowed unspeakable 
things in the lust of combat, his dark visage distorted, 
his mighty body gathered into a great, human battering 
ram. 

Presently the constable too went down with a shat- 
tered arm, and the line of police shortened and curved. 
Fisette found himself throttled by a muscular arm 
which shot round his neck, and two minutes later they 
were surrounded and fighting for their lives. 

The battle surged and palpitated. What remained 
of Baudette’s axemen were behind the big gates, where 
Belding had dragged the prostrate foreman. Clark 
303 


THE RAPIDS 


stood in absolute calmness, though he knew that pres- 
ently this barrier would be battered down. 

Belding drew a long breath and shot a fascinated 
glance at his chief. It flashed into his mind that Clark 
was getting punishment now, not only in the eyes of 
the world, but also in the eyes of the man from whom 
he had taken that which was dearest and best. But his 
leader’s gaze was as clear as ever. 

“ It can’t last much longer, sir,” he shouted through 
the uproar. His automatic was empty, and he could 
only watch the front rank of rioters pick up a great 
baulk of timber and balance it opposite the gates. 
Then a sudden chill struck to his very soul. What 
would happen in St. Marys? 

Clark, staring at him, just as suddenly perceived 
what was in his mind. 

“ Take my launch,” he called into his ear. “ You 
can land at the house. Hurry! Don’t mind about 
me.” 

Belding hung for a moment in frantic uncertainty, 
and shook his head. He was next in command here, 
but a short mile away was his heart’s desire, defense- 
less, save for what resistance could be hastily organized 
in the town. It was questionable what that was worth, 
and his whole soul commanded him to go to her. For 
an instant he felt sick, then over him flooded the cold 
conviction that, even though he saved Clark for Elsie, 
he must stay and see this thing through. 

Suddenly from far down the road came a sharp rat- 
tle, that pierced the uproar and brought a grim, inflex- 
ible message. Clark heard it, and over his face stole 
304 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


an expression of relief. The mob heard it, and 
through their surging ranks ran that which sobered and 
cooled their fury. Manson, prostrate and bloody, 
heard it, and Fisette, and all the others who had fought, 
it seemed, their last fight. The rioters began to dissi- 
pate like blown leaves in autumn, and a rippling line of 
infantry in open formation moved rhythmically up the 
road from St. Marys. 

Clark drew a long breath and looked curiously at his 
engineer. 

“ You saved my life, Belding.” He hesitated a mo- 
ment, and added thoughtfully, “ Now, why should 
you want to do that ? ” 

Belding stared and a lump rose in his throat. He 
had lost and yet he had won, — been defeated and yet 
had risen to something bigger than he had ever 
achieved before. He could face the future now, even 
though it were written that he should face it alone. 
He tried to speak, then turned on his heel and walked 
towards the dock, where “Clark’s fast launch lay glint- 
ing in the sun. 

The gray eyes followed him in profound contempla- 
tion. Presently Clark smiled, it seemed a little sadly, 
and advanced to the officer commanding the troops. 
Baudette was sitting up. Manson, his face gray with 
pain, was nursing a dangling arm, and round them 
the derelicts of battle were strewn grotesquely. But it 
was Fisette who spoke first. 

“ By Gar ! ” he said with flashing teeth, “ she’s one 
big fight, eh ! ” 

Silence spread again over the works. An armed 
305 


THE RAPIDS 


picket was left at the big gates, while the rest of the 
troops patrolled suddenly deserted streets in Iron- 
ville. In the accounting office there began again the 
clicking of typewriters, and Clark, at his desk, dictated 
a dispatch to Philadelphia. This done, he fell into a 
mood of strange abstraction. The car of destiny was 
traveling fast. 

Just then the telephone rang, and he took up the re- 
ceiver automatically. As in a dream Elsie’s voice came 
in, tremulous but very clear. He smiled wearily as 
he listened. 

“ Thank you very much,” he said in answer. 
“ There is really no serious damage done, except to a 
few foolish heads ; and,” he added, “ please thank Mr. 
Belding again for me, — yes, he’ll understand.” 

A hush fell in the office again, and he felt inexpressi- 
bly alone. He was not in any sense hopeless, being 
assured that in the vast machine of his own creation 
were inherent qualities of life that could never be ex- 
tinguished. He was strong, since for himself he de- 
sired nothing. In this hour of uncertainty his imagi- 
nation traveled far, but again and again it was cap- 
tured by the remembrance of his days with the bishop. 
This had nothing to do with works, and yet in a 
way they were intimately connected. The bishop had 
demonstrated the operation of high and subtle forces 
to which he himself had not given much thought. The 
bishop had saved his life, just as Belding had saved it, 
and he still seemed to feel the working of big muscles 
under his twitching palms. There flashed back what 
the prelate had said about being prepared for the worst, 
306 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


which after all was sometimes the best, and, with half 
closed eyes, he wondered whether this was the occasion. 
There sounded a knock at the door, and the bishop him- 
self came in. 

Clark, getting up hastily, advanced to meet him. 
There were only three people in the world he would 
have cared to see at that moment, and here was one 
of them. 

“ Come in and sit down, sir. This is very good of 
you.” 

“ It took me two hours to get here,” said the big 
man, breathing a little hard. “ It’s rather difficult 
traveling to-day.” 

Clark stared at him. He had always thought of 
the bishop as an exemplar of peace, but he had ar- 
rived almost on the tail of the riot. 

“ I only reached town a short time ago,” the visitor 
was smiling cheerfully, “ and heard about the trouble. 
Now that I’m safely here, I’ll only stay a minute.” 

Clark shook his head. “ You are very welcome, sir.” 

The bishop nodded contentedly. “ I just wanted to 
express my sympathy with your present anxiety, and 
my belief that everything will come all right.” 

“ You do believe that? ” 

“ Unquestionably. Such efforts as yours are not 
foredoomed. I see you, too, are of my opinion.” 

“ I have to be,” said Clark reflectively. 

“ I’m not at all surprised, since you can turn to the 
physical evidence of your own efforts to support you. 
It gives you an advantage over myself.” 

“ Does it?” 


THE RAPIDS 


The visitor pointed to the mass of buildings close at 
hand. “ You have all that, and there is no doubt that 
inanimate things possess a peculiar influence, either 
'strengthening or otherwise. But still I can quite 
imagine what it means to you to sit here and listen 
to silence with so many reminders about you. It is 
one of the things that the servants of humanity must 
occasionally face. ,, 

“ Servants? ” said Clark curiously. 

“ Is not a leader also a servant. Has he anything 
left for himself, and is it not just a different term for 
the same thing ? ” 

The other man experienced a strange sensation that 
he had discovered this a long time ago. The bishop 
had also discovered it, but had not forgotten. 

“ I have it in my mind that there is another reason 
why you should not be depressed,” went on the prelate 
assuringly. “ You have always demanded too much 
of yourself; and while you are many kinds of a man 
you cannot be all kinds.” 

This was also true. “ Go on, sir.” 

“ I have developed no commercial ability, but admit 
a strong commercial interest, and sometimes think I 
could have been a good business man myself. I 
roughly divide them into two classes, — one very large 
and the other very small.” 

“ Successful and unsuccessful, I assume?” 

The bishop’s face was very thoughtful. “ That de- 
pends on what you mean by ‘ success.’ Wealth, for 
instance, does not necessarily stand for success. You, 
if I may say so, are a practical idealist, for you have 
308 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


faith in your dream. You have achieved a vision re- 
vealed to few men’s eyes and — ” 

A gentle knock at the door cut him short. The sec- 
retary came in with a telegram, and something in the 
face of the latter made Clark’s heart leap within him. 
A few seconds later he placed the yellow slip in the 
bishop’s hands, and gazed at him with twinkling eyes. 


Ontario government advances two million on offered se- 
curity and has notified your bank. 


Semple. 


The bishop read it over slowly. “ How can I con- 
gratulate you ? What splendid news ! ” 

“ You have congratulated me.” 

“ Eh! When?” 

“ You said I had faith in my dream. Now I beg of 
you not to move, but just see how things work.” 

In the course of the next ten minutes, the prelate 
saw Clark in swift action. Automatically the clear 
brain marshaled all the pressing duties of the moment 
and discharged them in quick succession. Messages 
to Filmer, to the military authorities, to various im- 
patient creditors, were dispatched, for in this master- 
ful hand was gathered every filament through which 
a vitalizing energy would again permeate the works. 
The flexible intellect of the man worked with a pre- 
cision that was impressive. Presently the bishop rose 
to go. He stood, an imposing figure, animated with 
benign understanding and good will. 

“ Good-by, till we meet again. I rejoice with you 
in what has just taken place, but you are a prophet and 
309 


THE RAPIDS 


all prophets are on a precarious pedestal. Had you 
been in the pursuit of wealth I could not have talked 
as I have to-day.” 

Clark did not answer, and in the hush the voice of 
the rapids lifted a melodious chorus. 

“ But after all does it matter how deep the water 
through which any man passes if the community at 
large benefits ? ” 

“ I don’t know what they would say to that in 
Philadelphia.” 

“ Possibly, but in an economic sense what has hap- 
pened is that some of the wealth of Philadelphia has 
been transferred here. This will be a few weeks’ sen- 
sation — and then will follow a fresh one. That is of 
the nature of things. But long after you and I have 
moved on, the forests and mines of this district will 
be adding to the strength of the country. Those men 
who have backed you have contributed with you and 
made it possible. Mr. Clark, I have no fear for the 
future of the works or of yourself.” 

Clark’s lips curved into a rare smile. “ Neither 
have I, sir.” 

His visitor departed, and he got on to the Philadel- 
phia wire with the curt information that two million 
dollars had been secured from the Ontario government, 
and asked permission to continue work. Simultane- 
ously the news spread like a forest fire. The militia 
found there was nothing to contend with. Merchants 
surveyed their looted stores and swore vengeance, but 
in a modern Arcadia one cannot arrest two thousand 
foreigners. There were blocks of buildings with fronts 
310 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


smashed in; dangling knots of wires; prostrate electric 
light poles; scattered stones and bolts and shivered 
fences, but the rioters, to a man, were back, dandling 
their babies and waiting for the morrow. It was as 
though a hurricane had blown fiercely through the 
town, and then died over the encircling hills. And in 
the bank office Brewster was thoughtfully reading two 
telegrams from Thorpe, one commending his attitude 
for the past few weeks, the other authorizing him to 
credit the Consolidated account with two million dol- 
lars. 

A few days later Wimperley and Birch arrived. It 
was their answer to Clark’s suggestion that work be 
continued without delay and, as usual, he quite cor- 
rectly interpreted the manner of their reply. His en- 
ergy had saved the situation which it had created, but, 
in spite of this, there was a new spirit in the financial 
circles of Philadelphia. He was dubbed a dangerous 
man. He was, they considered, too swift as well as too 
hypnotic. To continue to identify themselves with his 
undertakings was deliberately boarding a runaway 
train. Added to this, the interlinking of companies 
which had been presumed to be a factor of strength 
was now shown as an element of weakness. When 
one lost money, all lost it. 

When Wimperley, unfolding his mind steadily and 
without interruption, told Clark that the old regime was 
at an end, the latter, at first, was not much impressed. 
But gradually the case became clearer. 

“ I don’t say we don’t trust you,” he said, “ but can- 
didly, we’re afraid of you. Just two things are needed 
3ii 


THE RAPIDS 


to secure the operation of the works, — new money and 
new management; and it’s possible the new crowd 
won’t want you. Philadelphia has been sucked dry so 
far as concerns us.” 

“ Any suggestions? ” put in Clark quietly. 

“ Not yet. We’re in correspondence with London 
people, and they’ll probably come out. When they do,” 
continued Wimperley, eying the other man meaningly, 
“ we’ll turn them over to you.” 

“ Is that it? ” The voice had a profundity of mean- 
ing. 

Wimperley nodded. “ I thought you’d understand. 
You got us in, and now you’ve got to pull us out.” 

“ And pull myself out too,” said Clark dryly. 
“ Thanks.” 

“ Would you prefer that the works stay idle with you 
or get busy without you? ” interjected Birch pointedly. 

“When it comes to that — if it does — I’ll let you 
know. In the meantime — ? ” 

“ Don’t turn a wheel except for town utilities, and 
now we’d like to see Bowers. You probably don’t 
realize what we’ve been through in Philadelphia. 
Consolidated isn’t what you’d call gilt edged just now, 
and the corners are knocked off our reputation as busi- 
ness men. I just mention this in case you feel ag- 
grieved.” 

Clark grinned suddenly. “ I’m not worrying either 
about my stock or my business reputation. Your dif- 
ficulty is that you don’t see why any one else should 
pull through where we didn’t.” 

Wimperley nodded. “ There’s something in that. 
312 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


What we’ve got now is the job of making Consoli- 
dated stock worth something — by earnings. It means 
cutting out the dead wood — our own dead wood, 
and I don’t fancy the contract. It hurts to chop down 
the tree you helped to plant — but it’s the only way 
out of it. There will probably be months before this 
machine will start up again, and move toward perman- 
ent success.” 

A day or two afterwards the two directors went 
back to Philadelphia, where they reported to Stough- 
ton and Riggs that the screws were on tight. Save 
only the pumps and generators, not a wheel turned 
in the Consolidated. Birch’s conclusion was that mil- 
lions more were needed. Consolidated stock settled 
down to a nominal value that fluctuated with conflict- 
ing reports of new capital having been found, but the 
whole affair was flat — indescribably flat. And mean- 
time Birch — with the unprofitable burden on his shoul- 
ders — made pilgrimages to test the financial pulse, and 
for months returned empty handed. 

In St. Marys it seemed that Arcadia might be re- 
born, — not the old time Arcadia with its sleepy vil- 
lage atmosphere, but a modern one in which folk made 
up their minds to live on the profits of past years. 
The car service was reduced, and half the street lamps 
removed. There were empty houses in the new streets, 
and the property which once passed through Manson’s 
hands could have been re-bought at the original price. 
Filmer and the rest reduced their stock, while the 
whole overbuilt, overgrown town settled down to wait 
till, after a weary interval, Clark got off the train with 
313 


THE RAPIDS 


two strangers and drove up to the big house on the 
hill. In half an hour Bowers, who was expecting them, 
completed the quartet. 

It was an unusual group that gathered that night 
in the dining room. Ardswell and Weatherby had 
spent a week in Philadelphia before Wimperley tele- 
graphed Clark to come down. The story was plain 
enough. The two Englishmen had come from Lon- 
don to hear it, — and it was told well. But Wimperley 
and Birch shared the belief that Clark, in the mean- 
time, should be kept in the background, lest his hypnosis 
should envelop them as of old. They held him, as it 
were, a reserve store of influence to be used at the 
proper time, and it was not till the financial aspect of 
the affair was thoroughly digested that he was called 
in to play his appointed part. 

Ardswell and Weatherby wanted to see whether the 
machine could be made to run commercially. That 
it was not so running was obviously the fault of those 
in charge, and Clark at once determined not to attempt 
to make former mistakes less glaring. The more obvi- 
ous they were allowed to remain, the more easy their 
rectification. He was too much in love with the works 
to dodge this sacrifice, and yet could not conceive their 
continuing without him. 

Assuming this onerous duty, he was perfectly 
aware that he dealt with minds of a new complexion. 
Instead of responsive Americans, he confronted two 
cool-blooded Britishers, to whom any show of spon- 
taneity was out of place. They were on guard, and 
Clark knew it, and of all his achievements none stands 
314 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


out more prominently than his attitude on the three 
days that followed. He became a Britisher himself. 
He assumed, quite correctly, that nothing would be 
accepted without proof. 

Tramping about the works, they were accompanied 
by the superintendents of the various departments, to 
whom he referred the pointed questions that came so 
frequently in high-pitched, well modulated English 
voices. What Clark said himself was very curt and 
to the point. The works, he decided, could talk for 
themselves. Coming last to the pulp mill, Ardswell 
ran an admiring eye down the long rank of machinery, 
ranged like sleeping giants in a dwindling perspective. 

“ I say,” he remarked involuntarily, “ I’d like to see 
the thing turn over. Could it be arranged ? — at our 
expense of course,” he added. 

Clark nodded to the superintendent, who was close 
behind, and presently the day watchmen were twisting 
at the turbine gate wheels. A soft tremor ran through 
the building, growing steadily to a deep, hoarse rumble 
as the massive grindstones revolved faster. The floor 
vibrated in a quick rhythm, and in a few seconds came 
the full drone of work — that profound and elemental 
note of nature when she toils at the behest of man. 

The faintest flicker of light stirred in the blue Eng- 
lish eyes. Ardswell had been walking from turbine to 
turbine. “ Ripping!” he said. “ You might shut 
down now.” 

The titans dropped one by one into slumber. When 
the last vibration was stilled, he looked up with a new 
respect. “ We might go ahead if you don’t mind.” 
315 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Take a quarter of an hour first, and follow me.” 

They struck southward, and the Englishmen heard 
the boom of the rapids deepen till they came to the edge 
of the river at Clark’s observation point. There was 
a strong easterly wind, and it caught at the snowy crests 
of the bigger waves, spinning them out like silver manes 
of leaping horses. These flashed in the sunlight, till, 
over the central ridge of water, the air was full of a 
fine, misty spray that hung palpitating and luminous. 
Here was a torrential life — born of the endless and 
icy leagues of Lake Superior. 

The two strangers stared fascinated, and as Clark 
watched them he perceived that once more the ageless 
voice of the rapids was speaking to human ears, just 
as it had spoken to his own so many times — and years 
before. He waited patiently, while the river lifted 
its elemental message, and saw the color rise in Eng- 
lish cheeks and the cold, blue English eyes begin to 
sparkle again. What were the drab records of Birch’s 
ledgers, or even the monumental pile of nearby build- 
ings, compared to this impetuous slogan? He stood 
silently, plunged in the psychology of the moment. 

“ How much power — total I mean? ” said Ardswell 
presently, pointing to the ripping flood. 

“Two hundred and forty thousand horsepower, at 
a minimum.” 

“ By George ! ” 

Silence fell again, till Weatherby, shaking the spray 
from his rough tweed coat, got up a little stiffly. 

“ I begin to understand a little better now,” he said 
slowly with an eloquent glance. 

3 r 6 


CONCERNING THE RIOT 


The car was waiting for them by the little lock — 
and here at the block house the visitors displayed 
marked animation. Clark told them the story very 
simply as they rolled off up the hill for lunch. 

“There’s one man, the chief engineer, Belding — 
you met him at the head gates — that I would like to 
be remembered should we do business,” he concluded 
very thoughtfully. “ Belding was my first employee. 
I picked him up in St. Marys and he has stuck to it 
nobly. I probably gave him far too much to do, but 
he never squealed; and there are other reasons.” 

Weatherby looked up. “ That’s the big, fair haired 
chap we saw go off in the canoe ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well,” put in Ardswell tersely, “ it will probably 
all depend on yourself.” 


XXIV.— DESTINY 


U P in the big bay that lies next the head of the 
rapids, Belding was drifting aimlessly. He was 
still obsessed with a sense of the hideous uselessness of 
effort, and wanted to be alone. At one time Elsie 
used to be here in the bow of the canoe, but now it 
seemed that Elsie had little thought for him. And yet 
he could have sworn that, two years ago, she loved him. 

He began to paddle, with a sharp and growing re- 
sentment, and found a deep satisfaction in the thrust 
of his broad blade. Soon he was nearly half way 
across the river, and a mile down stream lifted the fab- 
ric of the great bridge. Slacking speed, he caught the 
pull of the current, and with it came a reckless impulse. 
No man had shot the middle of the rapids and escaped 
with his life. It was true that the Indians maneuvered 
their long canoes down close to the opposite shore with 
venturous tourists, but it was only a film of water that 
wound, bubbling, near the land. With the deep- 
throated rumble only half a mile away, Belding felt 
his pulse falter for a second, then pound viciously on. 
And in that second, with the bravado of early man- 
hood, he threw discretion overboard, and set the slim 
bow of his Peterboro’ for the middle span. Twenty 
seconds, later he knew that he was about to run the 
rapids — whether he wotild or not. 

Settling himself amidship, he gripped the thwart tight 



DESTINY 


between calf and thigh and, resting the paddle across 
the gunwale, peered anxiously forward. His lips were 
a little dry, but he felt no fear. Being close to the 
water, he could not see the rapids themselves but only 
the first great, green curve, and below it the white tops 
of a multitude of waves. Then the middle span swept 
back overhead, he heard the river, split by the sharp 
piers, hissing along their rough sides and the canoe 
sailed like a leaf into the first smooth dip. Came the 
vision of a distant shore sliding by, and the lower reach 
with a ferry steamer halfway across, and Belding felt 
the canoe lift and quiver, while a green wave flung its 
white crest in his face. He came through rather than 
over it, and just below caught a glimpse of one of those 
dreaded cellars that hid themselves in this tumult. 
Here, at all costs, he must keep straight. 

The canoe, with no way on, swooped giddily into the 
great, emerald pit. There was a fleeting sensation of 
smooth, glittering, watery walls, till he was flung on and 
up into the backward foaming crest, and with a desper- 
ate effort wrenched the slim bow so that it took the rise 
head on. An instant followed in which the sky was 
blotted out, while on each side rose pyramids of bub- 
bling foam that seemed to meet over his head, but be- 
tween which he could see light and distance. The 
canoe, half full of water, was plucked onward, while 
Belding drew a long breath and searched the chaos in 
front of him. 

Fifty yards down, opened a lane of green that curved 
beside and between two cellars, each deeper than the 
last. He knew instantly that he could not survive these, 
319 


THE RAPIDS 


and, with every ounce of his strength, drove across the 
broken river to the head of the chute. Making it in 
the nick of time, he plunged in, with the water suck- 
ing at his thighs, and the sinews in his arms burning 
like fire. There followed a swift descent through cel- 
lars of dwindling depth, till he floated into the long, 
spume-flecked swells at the foot of the decline, where 
the canoe drifted sluggishly, full nearly to the gunwale. 
And here Belding leaned forward with his hands on 
her curved thwart, and pumped great gulps of air into 
his empty lungs. Presently he stared around. He 
was below the works of which he had seen nothing, and 
just opposite Clark’s big house, whose roof lifted on the 
hill side a mile away. He had dared the rapids and 
come through safely, but Clark, he reflected, was en- 
gulfed. 

Luncheon that day at the big house had been a silent 
affair, after which the three men went out on the ter- 
race and examined the panorama that spread to the 
south. It was suggestive and inspiring. They had 
been voiceless for some time, when Clark moved rest- 
lessly. 

“ Shall we talk here, or go back to the office? ” 

“ This is good enough for me,” said Ardswell ; “ are 
you ready for business ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And may I ask two questions first, — one is a trifle 
personal? ” 

“ Please ask them, if you wish; I have no personal 
secrets.” 

“ That’s very decent of you. What I’d like to know 
3 2 ° 


DESTINY 


is, first, what you found here when you arrived seven 
years ago, and, second, what your resources were at 
the time? You will not, of course, answer the last 
unless you wish.” 

Clark laughed almost boyishly. “ Why I found only 
the rapids, and — I had no resources, — that is, except 
myself.*’ 

“ I thought so, and ” — here the speaker glanced at 
Weatherby — <£ we would like to congratulate you. I 
had an idea that this was the case. Now as to the 
present business, we have decided to make a proposal to 
your board.” 

“ I am glad of that,” said Clark briefly. He knew 
that the moment had come. 

“We hope it will meet with your support,” Ards- 
well hesitated perceptibly and went on, pitching his 
voice a little higher, “ and you will not misunderstand 
my putting it rather baldly. The matter depends on 
two things : the reduction of the Consolidated capital 
from twenty-seven million to something about ten mil- 
lion and the wiping out of all common stock, and,” 
here he paused again while the blood crept slowly to 
his temples — “ the other is a change in the executive. 
These being satisfactorily arranged, we will go ahead. 
That’s about it, eh ? ” 

“ Yes,” put in the other, “ but of course we could not 
go ahead, under any circumstances, without Mr. Clark’s 
temporary assistance. I think in fairness to him we 
should make the case a little clearer.” 

“ It’s fairly clear as it is,” said Clark without a trace 
of emotion. 


3 21 


THE RAPIDS 


“ We’ve never seen anything quite like this in any 
part of the world,” volunteered Weatherby, “ and it 
is a remarkable thing for any one man to have imagined 
and accomplished. Whether or not we take the matter 
up, it will always seem a catastrophe that your work 
and the work of your directors should have been inter- 
rupted by a speculator. That’s one thing that strikes 
us both about American business — you have your 
lions, and plenty of them, but you have too many 
wolves. Now, coming back to St. Marys, I beg that 
you won’t misunderstand me when I say that the 
originator of great things is very seldom a suitable ex- 
ecutive for permanent administration. It is too much 
to expect. In case we take this up it would be neces- 
sary for us to have the administration in our own 
hands. You understand, of course, that an originator 
of big things is a much rarer person than a good execu- 
tive, and it is largely on account of non-imaginative 
qualities that the latter is the safer man. I would like 
to assure you,” he concluded with evident respect, “ that 
we have never experienced more difficulty in making a 
suggestion. The case is extraordinary — we realize 
that.” 

“ What Weatherby has in his head,” added Ards- 
well, “ is that you have done what neither of us could 
ever have done, and he thinks it a waste of valuable 
material to try and make an executive out — ” 

“ Out of me,” interrupted Clark. “ You may be 
quite right.” He had expected to feel alone, but the 
direct simplicity of these men appealed to him. It was 
not always, he reflected, that he was given an un- 
3 22 


DESTINY 


prejudiced opinion, and he felt the safer since now 
he got it. 

“ We believe that we are right,” it was Weatherby 
who spoke, “ and are prepared to assume that re- 
sponsibility. Like you, we have shareholders to think 
of, and we feel that yours will not get any better offer. 
We know the financial world fairly well.” 

Clark listened tensely. He was aware that the inter- 
ests represented by these two were of enormous in- 
fluence and wealth. He realized, also, that instead of 
all this discussion, Wimperley might simply have noti- 
fied him that he was discharged, and that the new in- 
terests would now take over. But Wimperley had 
done nothing of the kind. 

“ One week in Philadelphia taught us much, but we 
have learned a great deal more up here,” continued 
Weatherby, “ and it depended really on the past three 
days whether we would make a proposal or not. 
From what we have seen and what you have told us, 
we are satisfied. I might say that your directors have 
already agreed to the reduction of capital, provided the 
matter of management is settled. So the future lies 
entirely with you. Your holdings in common stock 
are so large that it is essential you give your formal 
assent.” 

Clark drew a long breath. He had come to the fork 
in the road. The labors of seven years rolled suddenly 
over his brain and engulfed it. Here were two men 
who drank his wine, then asked him to leave his very 
soul to others. 

“ Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “ thank you for what 
323 


THE RAPIDS 


you have said — but I can’t give you an answer at 
once.” 

“ There’s no hurry,” replied Ardswell. “ It’s not 
a case for a snap decision.” 

Through Clark’s mind ran a quizzical idea that these 
two understood each other admirably, and he wondered 
how things would have turned out had he himself been 
one of a pair that did such team work. 

“ Then later, to-night.” 

The two nodded and moved off, talking earnestly, 
while Clark experienced a strange breathlessness. His 
soul was in tumult, and he reacted from the strain of 
the past few days. He perceived that with men like 
himself and his visitors lay the great economic forces 
of the world. And yet he was expected to make way. 

Passing slowly through the big gates, towards which 
he had walked automatically, he moved on beyond the 
pulp mills towards the rapids, as though drawn by their 
insistent call. It was the call he had heard for years, 
even in his very dreams. And there, on the great boul- 
der where he had once found her before, sat Elsie. 

She had been there for an hour, gazing at the tum- 
bled mass of foam and trying desperately to disentan- 
gle her thoughts. But even as she gazed, Clark’s face 
seemed to come in between; keen, strong, undefeated 
and suggestive. It was not till now that she admitted 
to her own soul that he had dominated her imagination 
for months past. His achievements, his peculiar inde- 
pendence, his swift versatility had captured her crescent 
ambition, the ambition which he himself had unwit- 
tingly stimulated. She did not question whether this 
324 


DESTINY 


was love, she only knew that in this season, when his 
work seemed to be tottering over his head, she was 
ready to come to him and help rebuild it into some- 
thing stronger and even greater. 

She did not start, but looked at him with a strange 
satisfaction, as though it were meant from the first that 
they should meet at this time and place. Her eyes 
were very grave, and in them was that which made 
Clark’s pulse beat faster. Something whispered that 
each of them had been saved over for this moment. 

“ I haven’t seen much of you for the past few 
months,” he said presently. 

“ I know that, but I know why. Are things better 
now? ” 

He nodded. “ They may be very shortly.” 

“ I’m so glad. You can’t imagine how anxious I’ve 
been, — the riots and your escape — and — ” 

“ But I was anxious for you.” 

“ You shouldn’t have been,” she said gently. “ Mr. 
Belding told me that you wanted him to come to the 
house when things were at their worst, but he didn’t like 
leaving you. Now tell me, are the works starting up 
again ? ” 

Clark drew a long breath. “ I’ll know very soon.” 

“ Then you’ll settle down just like before, and it will 
be all a bad dream? ” 

“ Perhaps I will.” His voice lifted a little. 

“ You’re not going away? ” 

That was what he had come here to decide, and there 
flashed into his mind a curious conception that was 
both fanciful and reassuring. 

325 


THE RAPIDS 


“ Forget about the works for a moment; I want 
to ask you something.” 

“ But do I know? ” She smiled doubtfully. 

“ Yes, you’ll know without any question whatever. 
It’s the case of a man who worked very hard, and he 
didn’t work for money or glory, or anything of that 
kind, but just because he loved it and couldn’t help it.” 

“ That sounds very like yourself.” 

“ There are many men like that, more than most 
people imagine,” he said quietly; “ and after this one 
had, so to speak, built the foundations and walls, he had 
not money enough to put on the roof, and another man 
came along and offered to do it. Of course, he would 
get the credit for the whole building. It was a very 
important one, and it affected the lives and comfort 
of a great many people who would suffer if it were not 
completed.” 

The girl glanced at him strangely. “ Is that all ? ” 

“ Yes, except that the people who lived there would 
naturally forget all about the man who laid the founda- 
tions and built the walls, and would even blame him and 
think only of the one who made the place habitable 
for them.” 

“ But does that matter ? ” she asked quickly, looking 
at him. 

Clark took a long look at the animated face. 
“ That he should be forgotten or blamed? ” 

“ Yes. You said he worked for the love of it. He 
didn’t ask for thanks or appreciation, and from what 
you tell me he wasn’t that kind.” She turned swiftly : 
“ It is yourself.” 


326 


DESTINY 


“ And if it were, that would not alter your judg- 
ment, would it ? ” 

“ Is it fair to ask? ” Her eyes were full of a touch- 
ing appeal. 

“ A frank opinion is the fairest thing to me,” he said 
quietly. “ I know how you would look at it. There’s 
only one answer you could give. If it were otherwise 
it wouldn’t be you: the first man has no alternative, 
has he? ” 

“ No,” she whispered. Her face was pitiful, as 
though she had been secretly and cruelly hurt. 

“ Then it is the works I’m considering,” he con- 
tinued slowly. “ You’re the only one I can tell just 
now, but if they go on, it must be without me.” 

“ But they’re your works. You dreamed them and 
then built them.” 

“ I’ve had many dreams, Elsie.” 

Her heart beat rapturously. It was the first time he 
had called her Elsie, and her spontaneous spirit went 
out to this man who stood facing so great and sacrificial 
a decision. She longed to spend herself upon him. 
Involuntarily she glanced up with profound pity and, 
turning, caught a glimpse of a canoe that whipped down 
stream under the middle span of the great bridge. 

“ Oh, look ! he’s going to be drowned.” She 
clutched Clark’s arm in sudden terror. 

The latter stared, while something rose in his throat. 
The canoe was familiar. He had seen it a few hours 
before on the upper bay, and now his keen sight made 
out the figure of Belding. Instantly he grasped the 
cause of this foolhardy deed. A glance at Elsie told 
327 


THE RAPIDS 


him she was unaware who it was that thus played with 
death. 

“ Look, look ! ” she cried again. 

The canoe pitched into the first cellar, and in the 
mound of silver foam they could discern only the slim 
and tossing bow. Presently it emerged and reeled on 
into the fury below. Elsie covered her eyes, and Clark 
stood as though fascinated. What part had he played 
in this perilous drama? 

Vividly his mind flashed back to those first days, the 
beginning of the engineer’s unswerving loyalty. Year 
after year he had never faltered, and at the end of it all, 
even though apparently robbed by his chief of his 
heart’s desire, had thrust himself between Clark and 
the hoarse hatred of the mob. Came now an over- 
whelming sense of unworthiness, and Clark asked of 
himself who was he to demand such sacrifice. Then, 
as though a cloud had revealed the sun, the way be- 
came quite clear. 

“ Elsie,” he said, “ the canoe is all right, look ! ” 

Down in the long, smooth swell at the foot of the 
rapids, it lay sluggishly. The man dipped his paddle 
and began to move almost imperceptibly towards shore. 
The girl drew a long breath. 

“ He’s safe.” 

“ Yes,” said Clark earnestly, “ he’s very safe. Now 
I want to talk to you.” 

She brightened at once. “ Do.” 

“ I’ve wanted to talk to you for months. Do you 
remember what we spoke of last? ” 

“ Destiny,” she said softly. 

328 


DESTINY 


He nodded. “ I see it plainly to-day, more plainly 
than ever before. Sometimes when a man is in deep 
water his sight gets keener. What I have been through 
in the last seven years is only a phase, it’s not an epoch. 
I was meant to do it, and I did it with all my heart. 
Now I’m going to do something else, in order that the 
works may prosper. You have helped me to make that 
decision.” 

“ I ? ” she whispered faintly. 

He put a hand on her arm — it was his only caress. 

“ Yes, Elsie, you. It is as though I had caught sight 
of a road which was very beautiful and tender, and I 
was tempted to take it. But it is not my road. What 
the future has left for me I don’t know, but it is not 
here and I must meet it alone.” 

He paused for a moment, and the girl’s brown eyes 
filled with tears. Presently the steady voice continued. 

“ Destiny is calling, and one cannot take a girl into a 
battlefield, for that is what it is going to be. I’m a poor 
man again, Elsie, just as I was seven years ago. That 
does not matter, for I will be rich in memories.” 

“ Don’t,” she said brokenly, “ don’t ! ” 

“ Youth will go to youth, Elsie.” 

“ You mean — ” 

“ I mean that the man you really love, is the man you 
saw run the rapids.” 

“ Jim ! ” Her eyes were round with terror. 

“ Yes, Jim, the best friend but one I found in St. 
Marys. Jim, full of loyalty and courage and energy; 
Jim who wanted to give his life for mine, though he 
thought he’d lost you. He had never really lost you, 
329 


THE RAPIDS 


Elsie. The road that led to you seemed so attractive 
that I hesitated, till now I see that it was Jim’s road. 
It always was.” 

In the silence that followed she lifted her exquisite 
face. Her lips were parted, and in her gaze was a light 
that came as through dissolving mist. And then into 
their very souls crept the voice of the rapids. Clark 
caught it, and perceived that the call was not for him 
alone but for thousands yet unborn, and there began 
to creep over him the ineffable unction of labor. He 
realized how large was the world, and how much work 
yet remained to be done. His spirit was not solitary, 
but linked forever with eternal realities, and through 
the cloud that obscured the present he could see his star 
of destiny shining undimmed. 

And Elsie ! Elsie sat, her whole being shaken with 
overwhelming emotion. Never had she so longed to be 
everything to this man as now when, with prophetic 
power, his vibrant voice told her that he must journey 
on alone. In his accents she recognized the note of 
fate, and the ground shifted under her feet. She saw 
her dream dissolving. She perceived that against his 
lofty spirit she herself must oppose nothing small and 
selfish, however poignant the moment. Summoning 
all her fortitude, she stretched out her hand. 

He stood for a moment, and she felt the pressure of 
his grasp. It was warm and confident. When she 
looked up she was alone. 

It was hours afterwards that Ardswell and 
Weatherby lounged at their windows, overhanging the 
terrace. They were in dressing gowns and smoking 

330 


DESTINY 


contemplative pipes. Down below was seated a mo- 
tionless gray clad figure, clearly outlined in the moon- 
light. Ardswell saw him. 

“ Poor devil ! ” he said under his breath. 


XXV.— THE UNCONQUERABLE SPIRIT 



WO years later, Belding and Elsie were return- 


1 in g from Chicago, where the former had been 
purchasing machinery for the new company, of which 
he was chief engineer. Time had done well for them 
and for St. Marys. The six months’ physical inactivity 
of the works were spent wisely, if ruthlessly, in weed- 
ing out unfertile growths and concentrating resources 
on those which were sound and promising. There was 
a sharp distinction between this deliberate policy and 
the restless activity that preceded it. 

St. Marys, too, had caught its breath and taken on 
permanency. There were no more surprises. The 
works became a factory, instead of a Pandora’s box, 
full of the unexpected. Property was stable, if lower 
than the high water mark, while Filmer and the rest 
settled down to steady business, somewhat forgetful of 
the man to whom were due the first tendrils of the tree 
of progress. 

But Belding, growing constantly in mental stature, 
could never forget. His own position — his develop- 
ment — his authority, had come of the abiding faith 
bestowed on him nine years ago by one whom he had 
then seen but for ten minutes. And as often as he saw 
the works the realization came over him. How many 
others, he wondered, felt as he did? 

They were approaching St. Marys, and, coming out 


332 


THE UNCONQUERABLE SPIRIT 


of the dining car with Elsie, he steadied her to their 
seat. Night was drawing on, but the car remained un- 
lighted, and simultaneously they noticed a man sitting 
across the aisle, staring intently out of the window. 
Something familiar in the figure caught their attention. 

“ It’s Mr. Clark,” he whispered to his wife. 

She glanced across, and her fingers tightened on his 
arm. 

“ Don’t speak to him, Jim.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Look at him, can’t you see? ” 

Belding looked. Clark was absolutely motionless, 
and had not changed a fraction in two years. The 
train moved on, till it halted for a few moments on the 
great bridge. The air was cool and full of the deep 
roar of the rapids, and the car vibrated delicately with 
the huge steel girders on which it rested. Two hun- 
dred feet away came the first, smooth dip that Beld- 
ing would always remember. Immediately beneath, he 
had slid into the chaos further on. 

The two young people did not stir, but watched the 
silent observer. Against the window they caught the 
dominant nose, the clean cut, powerful chin, the ag- 
gressive contour of head and shoulders. Clark was 
leaning forward, his gaze exploring the well remem- 
bered scene. 

“ Don’t disturb him,” whispered Elsie again. 

Her husband pressed her hand, and they waited, won- 
dering what thoughts were passing through that mar- 
velous brain. He was staring at the works. It was 
all his — this dream come true ; this vision portrayed 
333 


THE RAPIDS 


in steel and stone. Out of nothing but water and wood 
and his own superb faith he had created it, only to see 
this exemplification of himself slip from his own hands 
into those of others, who had sponsored neither its birth 
nor its magnificent development. What portion of his 
leader, pondered the engineer, had been incorporated in 
those vast foundations — and what had life left in store 
to replace them for him ? 

The train was moving on, when Clark, turning sud- 
denly, smiled and held out his hand. 

“ Glad to see you both, if only for a minute. I’m 
on my way back to Russia, where I’m carrying out 
large improvements for the government — been there 
for the last year. By the way, Belding, did you notice 
that old, crooked birch beside the rapids? A big, fat 
kingfisher used to live there — we knew each other 
well. ,, 


CONCLUSION 


T HE sumac leaves, which through the summer 
months tapped delicately at my study window, 
have turned a vivid scarlet, and one by one have fluttered 
to the ground. Here, by the mysterious process of na- 
ture, they will be incorporated with the rich soil, to 
nourish some other life that will later climb sunward. 
But in that life no one shall recognize a sumac leaf. 

So it seems are the efforts of men. A few years of 
growth and aspiration — then the fiery bourgeoning 
to a climax, and, after that, incorporation in the soil of 
a forgetfulness that seems indifferent alike to their 
exertions and their ambitions. But the end is not here. 
Somewhere, and most certainly in some other form, the 
effort achieves immortality and reasserts itself, inde- 
structible and eternal. For such are the myriad fila- 
ments of existence, and so indissolubly are men linked 
with each other by invisible chains, that it is but seldom 
that impulse can be traced back to its birth, or courage 
to its starting point. 

Who then shall determine what is success and what 
is failure? Does the grandeur of the reward establish 
the value of the service, or is it not true that, in the 
mysterious cycle of time, the richest field is not seldom 
sown by hands that have been without honor or recogni- 
tion in their season? Does wealth or authority spell 
success, or is it the meed of those who have given rather 
335 


THE RAPIDS 


than taken, who have toiled on the mountain side rather 
than sought the peaks of publicity? Clark came to St. 
Marys a poor man, and he left it no whit the richer. 
What he made, he spent. And when the dg.y of his de- 
parture dawned, he went as one who had attempted 
and failed, carrying with him the resentment of those 
who lost, and few thanks from those who profited. 

But did Clark actually fail? 

To-day the mines of Algoma are supplying steel 
rails for Asiatic railways ; the forests about St. Marys 
are yielding pulp for Australia, and the great power 
house is sending carbide to the mines of India. This 
and much more is the fruit of vision. What matter 
that Philadelphia stormed, and that the reins of govern- 
ment were snatched from those masterful hands ? The 
dream has come true. 

Consider for a moment this man, who is stranger 
to most. He desired neither wealth nor ease, being 
filled with a vast hunger for creation, and to forest, 
mountain and river he turned with confidence and abid- 
ing courage. It was as though nature herself had 
whispered misty secrets in his ear. Being a prophet, he 
suffered like a prophet, but the years, rolling on, have 
enabled him to look back on the later flower of his 
earlier days, for it was written that he should plow 
and others reap. And of necessity it was so. Like 
the prospector who finds gold in the wilderness and 
straightway shoulders his pack to seek for further 
treasure, his unwearying soul drove him on in stead- 
fast pursuit of that which lay just over the hill. It 
was not the thing that lay at his feet which fascinated, 
336 


CONCLUSION 


but the promise of the morrow, whose dawn already 
gilded the horizon of his spirit. 

Clark, with his impetuous energy, is typical of a 
country in which few achievements are impossible. He 
provided his own motive power and used his hypnotic 
influence only in one direction — that of progress. 
Ever faithful to his destiny, he was too busy to have 
time to suffer, too occupied to waste himself in re- 
grets. Like the rapids themselves, his work moves on, 
and in its deep rumble may be distinguished the con- 
fused note of humanity, striving and ever striving. 


(i) 


THE END 




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